


I Only Ever Wanted To Come Home

by bredahl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Demisexual Steve Rogers, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, HYDRA Trash Party, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Manipulation, Mentions of Rape, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, PTSD, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Psychological Torture, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sex, Slow Build, Starvation, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Torture, Touch-Starved, Triggers, Violence, not glorified HTP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 93,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bredahl/pseuds/bredahl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the SHIELD/Hydra leak, The Winter Soldier finds himself lost in this new century, yearning to find himself again.  That all changes when Hydra catches up to him.  Meanwhile, Steve has to face his demons while searching for his best friend.  Two years later, Steve finally finds Bucky, and it's up to him to save him and help him recover. </p><p>  <b>Triggers throughout the story:  Self-harm, Starvation, Depression, Anxiety, Violence, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Major Character Death, Mentions of Rape, Non-glorified Hydra Trash Party in Chapter 5.</b></p><p>
  <i>Please note that this fic will not glorify any hardships Bucky faces during his recovery.  Any memory he recalls of his days as the Winter Soldier are unforgiving and harsh.  I will try to point out any trigger warnings as each chapter is posted, but if I forget, please tell me!  I apologize if I missed any TWs in my beginning notes.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Chance to Live Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's time that I bid you farewell  
> I'll sign my release with your blood  
> You can't keep me trapped in this hell  
> I won't ever call this my tomb  
> The place where your soul's sent to die  
> Is the place where my purpose was found  
> I'm taking control of my life  
> And I'm raising an army from hell  
> And I'm burning this place to the ground

_**April 21st, 2014** _

The Winter Soldier was untouchable; at least he had felt that way.  It was a familiar feeling. The masked assassin had reverted back to being a ghost the second he had failed his mission of killing Captain America.  He saved his mission, and he should have been asking himself _why_?  Why save someone he didn’t know, someone he was supposed to kill?  Instead, the only question that crossed his mind was ‘ _how the hell did his mission know him?_ ’ He felt no guilt for saving his mission. He only felt a sense of impending dread, as if he were walking into his own grave as he walked away from the chaos he left in his wake.  
  
 _“You know me.”_  
  
The Asset understood that after the events at the Triskelion, SHIELD had essentially disbanded. Hydra would be weeded out of the organization in due time, but that was of no concern to the Weapon. The thought had crossed his mind for a split second, but the noise of whatever this century was quickly fogged his mind.  He scanned his surroundings, taking in information more like a computer would.  The cars looked more precise; the people around him unobservant.  The buildings were harsh, cold, and unwelcoming.  The only thing grounding him to the present was the clothes he had stolen from a seedy thrift shop down a nearly-forgotten street.  He needed to blend in; he needed to try not to draw attention to himself no matter how much pain he was in from the fight on the helicarrier.  
  
In a dark alley, The Soldier reset his right arm, barely flinching from the pain.   _Don’t show pain._  The moment his arm snapped back into place, he saw his mission’s face.  Steve Rogers was the name behind Captain America.  The name was ordinary to him; another name he could have added to the long list of missions he’d accomplished.  He clenched his jaw, pushing himself off the gritty brick wall he’d used to ground himself and walked back into this world of anonymity.       
  
The Winter Soldier stayed in the shadows, out of the way of curious eyes.  He knew there were people out there that still worked for Hydra.  The destruction of SHIELD did not get rid of them; it simply brought their names to the surface. His handlers would find him soon enough, and his memory would be wiped. He would be tortured, retaught, frightened into submission until a new mission was placed on his shoulders. He would not fail them this time.  
  
 _"Bucky...You've known me your whole life."_  
  
A brief moment of clarity washed over the killer's face as he remembered the look in Rogers' eyes, _as if he knew The Winter Soldier_ , as if they were lifelong friends. He had no concept of friendship. He only had missions; but that look Rogers gave him made him stop in his tracks, momentarily unaware of his surroundings as he recalled the incident on the bridge. _He should have killed him then._ He should have killed him on the helicarrier.  The first shot he took should have been a kill shot. Captain America was already in a compromising position, yet instead of taking an easy kill shot, he chose to slow him down instead.  He shot him three times and that didn’t stop him.   
  
 _He was a failure._

A sign blocked the Asset’s path as people shoved past him, and he recognized the face on the display; the red white and blue suit.  He remembered the face; the face that belonged to the man he saved.  The man with blond hair, crisp blue eyes and a strong jaw.  He needed answers; maybe this would give him some.

_Don’t make eye contact._

The thought raced through his cluttered mind as he stepped into a large cement building labeled The Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum.  His head stayed low, hair tucked behind his ears, kept in place underneath a baseball cap, fearing that he would draw more attention to himself than usual.  He shoved his hands in his pockets, standing in the foyer for a few moments before he understood to step in line and wait to approach the security guards with their electronic wands.  

“Empty your pockets and hold out your arms.”  The young man operating the electronic wand ordered as he stepped forward.

The Soldier obeyed, turning out his pockets so he would know he had nothing before he outstretched his arms.  He tried his hardest not to make eye contact as the gears in his left arm shifted to lock in place.  The soft whirring noise startled the guard for a moment, but the Soldier kept his head down as he waved the electronic wand around the outline of his body.  He stopped when the wand beeped along his left arm.

“You got anything under that sleeve, pal?”

With a small grunt, The Soldier pushed up his sleeve to show enough of the metal prosthetic for the guard to understand.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir.  Veteran?”  The Soldier nodded.  It was a simple enough lie.

“Iraq or Afghanistan?”  He croaked out the first word that came to mind; the simpler word to remember, ‘Iraq’, before the security guard let him into the museum.  He rolled his sleeve back down and shoved his hands back into his pockets, shoulders hunching over as he followed the signs towards the Captain America exhibit.  

Children were laughing and darting past the Soldier towards the exhibit with red, white and blue shields clutched tight in their little fingers.  The amount of people surrounding him made him shrink in on himself. He was used to silence; not the constant bombardment of human interaction.  He knew he was in a place that could compromise him; that could blow his cover.  He shouldn't be in this place.  It was like he was asking to be captured.  The exits were all obstructed from his line of sight, the place way too crowded and the noise distracting. He carried on, the only thing his mind telling him was that _he needed to know._  His feet slowly carried him closer to the exhibit until he came face to face with a panorama of Captain America’s profile and he stopped.

The Asset clenched his jaw.  The image just oozed self-righteousness and it didn’t quite sit right in his mind.  He wasn't sure why, it was just too good for the man he fought in the helicarrier.  Yet, the man was too good.  He was stubborn; he refused to quit, he refused to die, and he refused to fight him, but the man he had fought in the helicarrier was a different kind of good than the man in this picture.  Who the hell was this man?

The Soldier moved on, eyes skimming over the information on what the super-soldier serum did to Captain America.  The information wasn't important, so he moved on to the display on the Howling Commandos.  The faceless mannequins didn’t answer any of his questions, but a few of the images of each Howling Commandos in the background looked familiar; mainly Captain America’s and the Soldier named Sergeant James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes.  The name “Bucky” stuck out to him, shook him to the core.  The man he fought used that name; told him that that was his name.   _That wasn't him._

_"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."_

The Weapon moved on, silently strolling over to the display on James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes.  The man had his face, and he stared for a while, just memorizing the features.  He was young, boyish, with sharp cheekbones and soft lips.  He then quickly skimmed through the message.

> _Born in 1916, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom, Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front. Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, deprivation [sic] and torture. But his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America._
> 
> _Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, The Howling Commandos. Barnes’ marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater._

The word “childhood friend” stuck in his mind.  His mission was his friend.  The Soldier remembered that Captain America had said that he was his friend on the helicarrier.  The man with his face was his friend; not him.  He was not Bucky, even if all of the evidence he had gathered said otherwise, but at least he had a sense of who he was.  This was who he used to be; Steve Rogers’ best friend, an older brother, sniper.  He had to get out of there.  The information was all too much for him.

_"I'm not gonna fight you.  You're my friend."_

The Soldier looked down, turning on his heels as he headed back to the entrance.  He needed answers.  He needed to find Captain America; but he didn’t feel ready to confront him yet.  Seeking shelter was his first priority; getting out of sight was his best option if he didn’t want his handlers to find him.  His mind raced as he stepped outside, shouldering past a small crowd of tourists, lowering his eyes so he wouldn't be blinded by the sunlight.

The Soldier was caught off guard the moment a black bag was placed over his head and the familiar feeling of the cold metal of the thick cuffs being strapped around his right wrist. The only thing he could feel after that was how the cold fingers of his cybernetic arm felt against his real fingers. Everything else was black.

He should have struggled.  He should have shouted, but that would only bring more pain.  He would be risking his own safety if he broke away from his handlers.  The Soldier dropped his shoulders, relaxing his arms behind his back as his handlers steered him into a vehicle.

"Vam ne prishlo k nam, 32557038?" It was Russian. They were speaking Russian. The Soldier could instantly recognize the voice as one of his handlers, but as soon as he felt someone's hands on him, he blindly tried to shove their hands away with a shrug of a shoulder.  He felt a fist collide with his face.  He didn’t flinch; he didn’t move.  He stayed focused, hunched against the low ceiling.  The Asset spun around, sweeping his leg underneath the handler guiding him into the closest available seat.  He could hear men shouting around him, grabbing for him but he dropped down to the floor, wrapping his legs around the handler he had knocked down, thighs squeezing around his throat to cut off his air supply.  The Soldier grit his teeth as he felt a needle push into his neck, the syringe he assumed was packed full of sedatives. _Maybe this would help him forget the never-ending cycle of pain._

_"Then finish it, 'cause I'm with you 'til the end of the line."_

\---

 _ **April 26th, 2014**_  
  
"You don't have to come with me."

"I know,” Sam stated as he turned to face Steve.  “When do we start?"  

That conversation was four days ago.  Now the two men were hunkered down in Sam's house, searching through numerous files on Hydra bases.  They'd gone through a dozen pots of coffee by the time they compiled lists of safe-houses, bases and factory locations to raid.  Steve even arranged a list of locations of their old Brooklyn stomping-grounds in the hopes that Bucky had escaped Hydra's shadow and was now trying to reclaim himself.  

Steve refused to sleep.  He hadn't slept since he wrapped things up with Fury at the cemetery; he didn't see much of a problem with his lack of sleep until he started seeing flashes of Bucky out of the corner of his eye.  He thought he saw him sitting on Sam's couch once, and another time, he swore he caught a glimpse of him leaning over a porch across the street, smoking a cigarette and laughing about something.  

The super-soldier didn’t say anything about the hallucinations at first; he blamed what he was seeing on all the caffeine he was drinking.  He knew full well that the numerous amounts of coffee he drank had no effect on him, but sometimes it felt nice to lie to himself like that; especially if his hallucinations meant seeing Bucky in a different light.

Steve was on his sixth cup of coffee when Sam looked up from his laptop, giving him one of those ‘I’m concerned you’re going to run yourself into the ground if you don’t stop’ looks.  It took him a moment to really notice it, as he was nose deep in sorting through Hydra files, trying to figure out which bases should be their top priority to hit as they made their way up to New York.

“Get some sleep, Steve.  We’re not going to be able to find your guy if you keep working like this.”

Steve desperately wanted to defy Sam and say that he was fine.  He wanted to tell himself that he was okay after everything that happened.  He figured that if he just kept working through it all, that he could just ignore his problems, push it aside to worry about later.  It was just that every time Steve closed his eyes, he saw Bucky falling from that train, arms outstretched for him and screaming.  He saw the light leave his best friend’s eyes as gravity pulled him into that ravine.  

Sam was right, though.  Steve realized he was when he noticed that he was reading the same line of text over and over again and not comprehending a single word of what he was reading.  He glanced at the time, pressing his lips together in a hard line for a brief moment.  It was late.  He set his own laptop aside, rubbing his hand over his face as he hunched over the kitchen table.

“I know, Sam.  It’s just that he’s out there, and he’s got nothing; no one out there to help him.  It’s my job to find him and make sure he’s safe.”

“Who says it’s your job?”

Steve chewed on his lip, eyes darting down into his lap for a moment.  It wasn't anyone’s job; but he felt responsible because he was the one that should have reached farther for Bucky’s hand on that train.  No amount of ‘ifs’ could fix what happened on that train, and Steve realized that would haunt him for the rest of his life if he let it.

“You’re right; I need sleep,”  He was purposely avoiding the question now.  It was his job to find Bucky.  He’d go to the ends of the earth for his friend if he had to, because he should have done that on the train.  Bucky deserved that much, at least.  “I’ll see you when I wake up, Sam.”

“Uh huh.”  Sam smirked, not even lifting his eyes from his laptop as Steve pushed himself out of his chair.  He dragged his feet down the hallway and into the spare bedroom, not even bothering with his clothes as he collapsed onto the bed.  The sandman came for him as soon as he shut his eyes, and he wasn't going to fight it this time.

Sleep would have been a welcoming thing for him, had it not been for his nightmares.  It started happening in the hospital, and they felt so real.  Once, he thought he woke up to see Bucky dressed to the nines in his Army uniform standing beside his hospital bed, clean shaven and trimmed up all nice.  He had the biggest grin on his face, telling Steve that he missed him and he was glad to see he was getting better.  It would have been a welcoming sight if he hadn't noticed the dark red patch of blood covering his entire left sleeve.  The damp sleeve just dangled loosely to Bucky’s side and he paid no attention to it, like he wasn't fully aware of his injury.  It chilled him to the bone.

_“I’m sorry I didn’t look for you, Buck.  I should have.”  Steve’s voice was strained, nearly choking out the words as he tried to sit up in the hospital bed.  Bucky just pushed him back down, the touch of his right hand was firm but kind._

_“What’re you talkin’ about, Stevie?  I’m right here.  Always have been.  Ya can’t get rid o’ me that easy, punk.”_

_“I know, you jerk.  That’s the problem.  You’re not real; not this version of you at least.”  Steve rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands; as if trying to erase the image of Bucky standing before him with his pressed military jacket and peaked cap.  “I saw you fall, Buck…”_

_Steve’s eyes filled with tears then, unable to look away from that dangling sleeve stained dark red.  He swallowed hard, wanting to reach out to touch his friend and shrink away from him at the same time.  It was the most heartbreaking feeling, because he wanted it to be real but the guilt he felt when seeing Bucky like this upset him.  If only he had been quicker, Bucky would have still been alive, been whole; not the man he fought on the helicarrier._

_“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Stevie.  I’m here with you now, right?”  Steve nodded his response slowly.  It wasn't true, but he wasn't going to argue about it with Bucky, especially in his nightmares.  He didn’t want to make it all worse.  “Besides, I told ya we were goin’ to the future.”_

_Steve desperately wanted to laugh; he couldn't hide his smile but he couldn't stop himself from remembering the last time Bucky had said those words to him.  It was the last day they spent together before Bucky had shipped out, and Steve felt a bit torn about that day.  He could have spent the rest of the night with Bucky had he not gone and tried to enlist again.  He could have tried to enjoy his best friend’s last day in the US before shipping out, hanging out with him and spending as much time with him as possible.  Instead, he had essentially ditched Bucky to sign up for an experimental program that made him into the man he is today._

_“Oh, Stevie...Don’t be like that.”  Bucky must have noticed the look on his face, because the longer he thought about it, the more upset he became.  He was a terrible friend.  “I would have been dead if you hadn't come along.”_

_“D-don't say that, Buck.  Please.”  His voice shook as he remembered finding Bucky tied down to that table.  It wasn't that he didn’t feel thankful for saving his best friend’s life.  He was glad he had found Bucky, it was just hard to think about Bucky in the state he found him in.  He tried to relax as he felt Bucky’s hand squeezing around his shoulder.  It was a friendly gesture, but it just made him feel bitter and angry with himself._

_“Then what do you want me to say, Stevie?”_

_“I-I don--”  His words were interrupted when Rumlow stormed in, gun cocked and aimed at Bucky.  Two shots, swift and deadly, tore through Bucky’s body before Steve could even cry out in protest.  The gun was then aimed at him, and he was given just enough time to see the light leave Bucky’s eyes before he heard the gun go off again._  

Steve woke up before he took his last breath, drenched in cold sweat and feeling terrible.  He wasn't sure what was worse; seeing Bucky in his dreams like that, or seeing him die.  What was worse was that it was Rumlow that pulled the trigger; someone he had once trusted but turned on him.  His blood ran cold every time he thought about Rumlow.  The dream had left him feeling hollow, and he had sat alone in the hospital that night, unable to fall back asleep.

Tonight was no different.  As soon as he shut his eyes, he swore he could feel a strong arm wrapping around him and a broad chest pressing up against the hard line of his back.  He could smell cigarette smoke lingering in the air, faint but it still haunted him.  It would have been a welcoming feeling (and he almost welcomed it) had it not been for the feeling of dampness pooling between his body and the other's.  It left him feeling bitter; torn between not wanting the nightmare to end because he missed Bucky, but wanting to wake up because he felt the guilt of not being able to catch him when he fell from the train.  

_"Where were you, Buck?"  His voice was soft, strained, as if fighting back the tears._

_"Right by your side like always, Stevie.  Where else would I be?"  There was a cheerfulness in Bucky's voice, as if nothing was wrong.  That made the feeling even more bitter.  Steve swallowed hard, burying his head in the pillow as he felt Bucky press his forehead in between his shoulder blades._

_"I don't know, Buck."  It was the only answer Steve could give that would prevent him from breaking out into dry sobs. He almost wanted to turn around and pull his friend into his arms, but he fought the urge. "I-I'm glad you're safe, Buck."_

_"I always have been, buddy.  It was always you I worried about; you and that smart mouth of yours always gettin' us into trouble."  He could practically feel the smirk on Bucky's lips, and his breath caught in his throat.  He longed to press closer, but the fear and the guilt still lingered._

_“I wasn't ever lookin’ for trouble, Buck.”  Steve forced a smile, pressing his head deeper into the pillow.  He felt Bucky press closer, as if he was hugging him.  Then, just like before, he heard the door to his bedroom swing open, a gun cocking and going off twice.  Bucky’s limb went limp moments later, and he could feel him exhale his last breath against his neck.  He knew he was next, but a part of him always died the moment Bucky had taken his last breath.  He heard the gunfire, and he shut his eyes tight, bracing himself for the pain._

When Steve awoke, he half expected for his left side to be covered in blood and Bucky laying at his side, fast asleep, or dead.  Instead, he was covered in a sheen of cold sweat, panting as he bolted up into a sitting position.  He wanted to cry.  He could feel the ache in his chest and the burning in his eyes from holding back his tears, but he swallowed down the knot in his throat and forced himself to get up.  He checked the time, the bright red numbers of his alarm clock glaring back at him.  It was too early, just past three in the morning, but he knew he couldn't get back to sleep; not after that nightmare.  He could feel his stomach churning at the mere thought of his head hitting the pillow and returning to more nightmares of Bucky.

Steve dragged himself out of bed, carding his fingers through his hair as he shuffled into the bathroom to freshen up.  He could already tell that he would have another long day as he splashed a few handfuls of cold water over his face, trying to erase the nightmare of Bucky out of his mind.  It took Steve a few minutes to collect his thoughts and clear his mind fully; telling himself that he was okay and that it was just a nightmare.  It didn’t feel like a nightmare.  Bucky was out there somewhere.   

\---

_ **April 24th, 2014** _

The Soldier woke up in the chair.  His surroundings were different; the air colder than the vault he was in back in Washington DC.  The walls were lined with electronic screens reading out his vitals and other electronic read-outs.  The walls were cement, the door located across from him was cold, unyielding steel.  It was his only exit point, but he wasn't trying to escape.  He knew what he was doing here.  He needed to obey.

_Just one more time._

That's what they always told him, and he barely remembered the last time someone had said that to him.  He remembered the man's face; he had old eyes, blue just like Steve Rogers and wiry red hair that nearly faded to grey.  Only one more and that would be it, he had said.  It was never the case; he was always wiped after being told that and he would forget.  He tried to ignore that fact as a few doctors and engineers walked into the room; a few carrying clipboards, others carrying guns.  He sat up straight, eyes glassed over as he surveyed his handlers carefully.  

"Where am I?"  The Soldier croaked out as a few engineers stood at his left to work on the damage done to his mechanical arm.  He didn't flinch or move when sparks started flying off the metal, he just stared ahead of him, waiting for an answer.  A needle was shoved into his right arm, and he didn't flinch as it dug into his skin, poking through a thick vein.  He didn't ask what drugs he was about to be pumped full of; he didn't care.  He didn't make eye contact with any of the engineers or guards.

"Siberia."  One of the guards stated in a thick Russian accent, and the Asset chose not to react to that bit of information.  It was a remote location, enough to stash him away for a while until the mess with SHIELD and Hydra had boiled over.  He almost wanted to ask what they were waiting for, but he already knew;  orders.  The engineers needed approval before they did a full mind-wipe and freeze.

Everyone stopped their work when an older man stepped into the room.  The Soldier did not know this man.  He was someone new; or so he thought.  He did not introduce himself, and the Soldier didn't care to know his name.  He knew what he was here for.  He knew what this man would do to him.  He just braced himself for punishment.

"Doklad missii."  the man stated as he approached the Soldier.  He had kind eyes like the man with the wiry red hair, but his features were sharp and unkind.  

"Nesoblyudeniye."  The old man pressed his thin lips into a hard line at the Soldier’s answer, his jaw setting and his eyes showing disappointment.  "Kapitan Ameri--"  The Soldier tried to explain his situation, but the old man held his hand up to stop him; not to strike him.

This was the moment he was dreading.  The Soldier wouldn't be sent to Siberia if he hadn't failed.  He saw the disappointment in the old man's eyes; he saw the anger, but he didn't shrink back.  He was trained not to show fear of his handlers in this situation, so when he was backhanded, he didn't flinch, he didn't shrink back.  He sat still before the old man forced him back onto the chair.

"Ya ne khochu eto slyshat'."  The old man snapped before turning to the engineers.  "Protrite yego, to ne postavit' yego v krio do dal'neyshego uvedomleniya."

The Soldier swallowed hard as he felt thick metal restraints close around both arms, his waist and his legs.  The metal was cold, sturdy and unfriendly.  A bite-guard was pressed to his lips and he took it into his mouth obediently before the device hovering over his head lowered.  He could hear the electrical charges coursing through each section and he braced himself for the pain.  All he could feel in the moments before those two metal plates pressed to the sides of his head was panic.  His breathing picked up and he bit down into the mouth guard as the two electrically charged pieces pressed to the sides of his head.

The Asset let out numerous pained cries the second those two metal plates pressed to the side of his head.  They always went ignored.  The pain was unbearable; like he could feel someone scraping and digging around in his mind, pulling out whatever memories were left of him.  His whole body shook against the restraints from the pain, his chest heaving, eyes remaining open as if to defy his handlers.  He couldn't fight it.  He bit into the mouth guard until his teeth started hurting, but the pain from his jaw clenching never compared to the pain coursing through his mind.

_No, don't take that memory.  Please don't.  Please stop.  I'll do anything._

The pain didn't stop.  The pain was coursing through his veins like fire, tearing through each nerve ending and ripping him apart from the inside.  The pain didn't stop even after the electric machine had finished its job.  He felt the metal plates pull away from the sides of his head, but the throbbing pain never left.  His whole head felt heavy with an ache he couldn't get rid of.  The Soldier wasn't given a moment to breathe or recover from the pain.  The mouth guard was ripped out from between his clenched jaw and he was dragged onto has feet as soon as the restraints let him go.

"Bol'no . Pozhaluysta, prekra--"  He didn't get a chance to finish as he was shoved into a chamber just small enough for a body to fit into; made of metal with one single window that he could look out of.  The door was shut behind him and then all he could feel was cold.  So very cold.  He was asleep the second he could no longer move his limbs.

Then the dreams started.  They were usually brief, and just out of his reach, like he couldn’t really touch and taste and feel in those dreams.  The dreams didn't last long enough for him to create a lasting memory, but enough for him to catch short glimpses of a life he might have had.  Were they his memories or was it all made up?  He was left an empty slate and should stay that way, but every once in a while, in his dreams, he would catch a faint glimpse of blue eyes and blond hair that reminded him of sunshine.  The image would be gone before he could keep it and commit it to memory.

\---

_ **June 23rd, 2015** _

"Steve, you're gonna wanna take a look at this."  Sam barked as he came back with the morning paper and a few coffees from the shop down the street.  They had hunkered down in  a safe house just outside Brooklyn, waiting for any sign of The Winter Soldier.  Steve was convinced that his friend would show up in Brooklyn eventually.  He had hoped that the Winter Soldier would return in the hopes of him remembering his past and needing to find out more.

The problem was that it’d been a year and no new information had surfaced; no new sightings of the Winter Soldier.  Not even the information they gathered from the Hydra/SHIELD leak had helped them much on their search.  Hydra had made sure to cover their tracks the second the information was released.  They made themselves into ghosts.

"What?"  Steve stepped into the kitchen just as Sam tossed the paper onto the table, tugging the plain white tank top over his stomach in the process.  He quickly rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as Sam nodded towards the newspaper.

"Take a look."  Usually Sam had a smart remark about the headlines that followed with a smirk, but not today so Steve hunched over the table, eyes quickly taking in the largest headline.

" **Two Prisoners Linked to Hydra Escape** "  Followed by two large pictures of Rumlow and Rollins sneering into the camera.  Steve slammed his fist down into the table, uncaring that the wood splintered under the pressure.  Sam didn’t even flinch; and Steve was sure he was just as mad as he was.  The pair of them quickly wondered if this was an inside job; it had to be.  There was no way those two could get out of prison without some sort of help.

“Think they had people on the inside, Steve?”  All he could do was nod his response.  “So what are we gonna do?”

“We need to find Bucky before Rumlow or Rollins get their hands on him.”  Steve stated as he grabbed for his coffee, nearly dragging himself into a nearby chair.  He wasn't tired, he was just fed up with getting no where in their search and their information.  Hydra was growing again, and now that those two men were out of prison, things would only get worse if Bucky wasn't found, or these two men weren't captured soon.  Steve took a sip of his coffee and skimmed through the story, only getting more angry the more he read.

“You want me to make the rounds today, Steve?”

“Nah, I was just about to get around to doing them.”  Steve stated as he finished off his coffee, his mind racing about the new threat they now had to face.  Rumlow and Rollins were free, and both Steve and Sam knew what they were capable of.  “I’ll pick up some groceries on the way back if I don’t come up with anything new.”

Steve was running on pure adrenaline and anger as he stepped out of the house half an hour later.  It didn’t help that he hadn’t slept in three days, and this time it wasn't on purpose.  Sam had gotten him to open up about his nightmares after the first few months, but it hadn't really helped ease his feeling of guilt.  Bucky still haunted his nightmares, but at least he now felt comfortable talking to someone about it.

The only thing that eased Steve’s mind when it came to his nightmares was his Harley.  As soon as his motorcycle roared to life underneath him, his whole mind cleared and he could think without any sort of interruption.  To Steve, his Harley was the only way he could feel completely connected with who he used to be and how he used to live.  There was just something classic and gritty about it, and it reminded him of his old apartment he shared with Bucky.

It was like a weight had been lifted off Steve’s shoulders the moment he hopped onto his Harley and took off.  He’d make his rounds like usual, but with the worry of Rumlow and Rollins free to walk the streets.  They were hundreds of miles away; they couldn't possibly find him in New York City within the first few days of their escape.  Steve wasn't even sure that he was their target.  

Steve made his first stop at the building where their old apartment used to be.  It had since been torn down and another apartment complex had been built in its place.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; nothing was out of place.  He waited, like always; some days, for half an hour, and others for an hour or more.  He grabbed a bagel from the bakery across the street, walking around the block a few times as he ate his sad excuse of a breakfast.  

The Captain hung around the apartment complex until he finished his bagel and he had spotted nothing of importance.  He moved onto the next place of interest; the docks.  All was quiet there too, nothing had changed, no strange sightings and Steve was losing hope.  He stopped at Coney Island in the afternoon, and making a few calls before he grabbed lunch.

_Beep!  Beep! Beep!_

Steve quickly dug his phone out of his pocket, pressing it to his ear before he glanced at the name.

 _“Hey old man, find a date yet?”_  Natasha; he should have known.  Steve smiled, leaning against a lamp post next to his bike.

“What is it with you and trying to hook me up, Nat?”  She knew he was too busy trying to track down Bucky to hold any sort of relationship.  He wasn't really trying to find a relationship, but he appreciated the thought.  He was lonely, and Nat saw that and somehow that thought brought him a sense of comfort.  

_“Just think you need a bit of company is all.”_

“I’m fine.  I've got Sam with me.” 

 _“But your wing men just escaped from prison.  Thought you’d want them back.”_   Now she was getting somewhere.

“Yeah, about that.  I was wondering if you could keep tabs on them if they ever decide to show their face or make a mistake.  I need to find out what they’re up to.”

_“Already on it, Cap.  I started as soon as I read the news, and I’ll call you if anything pops up.”_

“Did I ever tell you how wonderful you are?”  Steve said with a smile.  He could hear Nat laughing on the other end.

_“Are you flirting with me, Steve?  You know I’m not your type.”_

“You _know_ my type, Nat.  Anyways, thank you for doing this.  It really means a lot.”

_“Just be careful out there.  We don’t know what those two are up to just yet.  They could be after you--”_

“Or maybe they have different plans.  I’m thinking they may lead us to Bucky.”  Steve sighed, pushing himself off the lamp post.  “Anyways, I've gotta let you go.  I have to finish making my rounds before I head back to the house.”

_“We don’t know that yet and shouldn't make assumptions; but alright, Steve.  Take care of yourself.”_

“You first.”  Steve ended the conversation with a smile before tucking the phone back in his pocket.  It didn’t take long for him to get back on the road again.  He just had to stop at a few more places before he could get groceries and head back home.  It wouldn't take long; the last few stops weren't as memorable as the docks, the apartment and Coney Island.  

Steve was home just in time to put away the groceries and get dinner started.  Usually Sam was the one to start dinner if he was running late, but he seemed preoccupied with a telephone call.  So the Captain gathered around the ingredients for chicken and dumplings and got to work.  It was a simple dinner and it brought back memories of when he was a child helping his mother prepare the meal.  It put a smile on his face for a brief moment, pushing aside his worries for later tonight.  

_“Steve!  What happened?!”  Steve hadn't even had a second to set his books down on the kitchen table before his mom was hovering over him.  He was sporting a cut lip, a black eye and a few bruised knuckles from a fight in the schoolyard._

_“Some bully was pullin’ at Lucy’s pigtails and dippin’ them in ink and I didn’t like that he made her cry.”  Steve looked down; afraid of getting a scolding by his mother.  He shrunk back into a kitchen chair, unable to make eye contact._

_“Steve, look at me.”  Mom’s voice was gentle, close and he slowly looked up to see that she was kneeling in front of him.  “You did good for sticking up for Lucy like that.  No boy should ever treat a girl like that.  It’s never nice, and I’m proud of you for sticking up for Lucy.  Just be careful, okay?  You can’t keep getting into fights like this.”  Steve nodded solemnly.  It wasn't that he was really looking for a fight, he just couldn't stand seeing other people picked on like that.  He at least had to live to see his ninth birthday.  It was only a few months away and he didn’t want to look all black and blue for that if he kept getting into fights._

_“Now lets get you cleaned up and you can help me make dinner.  How’s chicken and dumplings sound?”  That put a smile on Steve’s face and he nodded, swinging his legs back and forth underneath him._

_“Thanks, mom.”  Steve said gratefully as his mom started wiping up the dried blood off of his lip._

_“Alright,”  She gave her son a gentle smile as she pressed a few ice cubes wrapped in cloth to his eye.  “Just sit there for a few minutes with that ice pack and then I’ll let you make the batter for the dumplings.”  Just then, there was a knock at the door before another scrappy young boy burst into the kitchen with twice as many injuries and an even bigger grin on his face._

_“James!  What have I told you about barging in unannounced?”_

_“Well, I did knock.  Figured that’d be enough of a warnin’ seein’ as I’m over here almost every day.  Anyways, good evenin’, Miss Rogers.”  The grin hadn't left Bucky’s face yet and Steve just smiled as he watched his mom get more bandages and damp cloths around to tend to his wounds._

_“What happened to you?”_

_“Was makin’ sure Stevie was okay, ma’am.”  Bucky gave Sarah a proud look and Steve reached over to shove him.  It was a playful gesture and both boys giggled as Steve’s mom tended to the older boy._

_“I had ‘im on the ropes, Buck.”_

_“You sure did, pal.”  Bucky said as he ruffled up Steve’s hair.  “Hey, Miss Rogers, can I stick around for dinner?”_

_“Of course!  You can help Steve make the batter for the dumplings.  You boys don’t make too much of a mess, okay?  And don’t forget wash your hands!”  Both boys nodded their heads in response before they rushed off to the bathroom to wash their hands.  Once they returned to the kitchen, Steve started grabbing the ingredients that Bucky listed off to make dumplings._

By the time Sam finished his phone call, Steve was mixing together the batter for the dumplings.

“So, no luck with Bucky, I’m assuming.”  Sam stated as he leaned back against the counter across from Steve.

“Not yet.  No sign from Rollins or Rumlow either, but Nat’s looking into it.  She says she’ll give us a call if anything happens.”  He replied, stirring the mixture in the bowl thoroughly before he tended to the chicken stewing in the other.

“You need any help with that?”

“No, I've got it.  Thank you, though.”  Steve shot a friendly smile towards Wilson.

“What’s cookin’, Rogers?”  Sam crossed his arms over his chest before he pulled his phone back out, snapping a picture of Steve. 

“I saw that,”  Steve shot Sam a sideways glance the second he heard Sam’s phone go off.  “Chicken and dumplings.”

“Gotta get a pic, Steve.  You never cook dinner.”  He said as he shoved his phone back in his pocket.  “Sounds good, though.  Riley loved chicken and dumplings.”

“You never told me about Riley.  What was he like?”  Steve said with a frown.  He knew it was a tough subject with Sam, but he was curious.  The air suddenly seemed a bit colder and Steve turned to face his friend for a moment just to see if he was alright with talking about it.

“He was a hard worker.  Loyal, just like your boy, Bucky.  He was quiet when I first met him; looked like he’d been through some hard times.  He never talked much about it, but he opened up to me when we started working together.  His mom was a dentist, and his dad was a general in the army.”  Sam couldn't hide the smile on his face at that last bit of information, but he continued.

“He was a good guy; didn’t wanna be there after he saw all the things that happened.  He wasn't proud of some of the things he’d seen, and to be honest, I wasn't either.  We drove through bombed out towns that had been hit by drones.  It seems like those drones killed more innocent civilians than enemies and everyone was turning against us.”  Steve could almost imagine it and frowned.  He was well aware of some of the things the United States has done in the fight against terrorism.  He didn’t agree with any of it and he wasn't proud of what his country had done either.

“The air force had a sad excuse for chicken and dumplings, but whenever they had it in the mess hall, Riley was happier than a kid with a bag of candy.  Sure, he didn’t like their version  of the meal, but he always said it reminded him of home.”  Steve smiled before he turned back to the stove to finish preparing their food.

“Riley sounded like a great guy, Sam.”

“Yeah, he was.”  There was a warmth in Sam’s voice when he replied.

“Hey, could you grab some plates and get the table set for me, please?”

“Sure thing, Cap.”  Sam was already on it by the time Steve had poured the batter on top of the chicken.  It didn’t take long to get the table set, and once the chicken and dumpling batter finished simmering, the only other thing he had to do was make the gravy.  

Fifteen minutes later, the pair of them were sitting down for dinner and Steve listened as Sam talked a bit more about Riley.  He also went deeper into the time he spent in the air force and the crazy stories that came with it.  They were laughing and joking around in no time, trying not to worry about the threat of Rumlow and Rollins walking the free world again.

\---

_**August 16th, 2016** _

_“Open the chamber!”_  There was a pause.  The voice was booming, angry and rough, but it sounded muffled from inside the cryochamber. _“Hurry up!  I don’t care if he’s still thawing; get him out of there!”_

The Winter Soldier slowly started regaining feeling, the motion returning to his limbs as his chamber started to thaw, and his eyes flickered open.  Moments later, he rolled his right shoulder as the door to his chamber slowly hissed open and he nearly toppled to his knees from the sudden rush of sensation in his limbs.  How long had he been in the chamber?  The Asset wasn't sure.  He swallowed hard, letting the engineers pick him up off the floor and haul him into the middle of the room.  As soon as he was back on his feet, he heard his first order.

“Stand at attention, 32557038!”  The weapon straightened up as the man with the loud, angry voice stepped into his field of vision.  He looked familiar, and it took him a moment to remember the name; Rumlow.  He looked different since he last saw him.  How long had it been? Scars and burns littered his face, neck and arms; he looked as though he had come straight out of a nightmare.  

“Don’t move,”  he ordered. The Soldier kept his stance straight, shoulders back and head facing forward. “Do you know me, 32557038?”

The Winter Soldier didn’t answer.  He hadn't been ordered to speak.  His eyes followed Rumlow slowly.

“Answer the question!  Do you know my name?”

“Rumlow.”  The Soldier croaked out, voice raspy and dry from lack of use.  He felt the urge to cough, but kept himself composed.  His stance didn’t falter when Rumlow approached him, face only inches away from his own.

“That’s right.  I have been placed in charge of you.  You will do as I say without question.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.”  He stared blankly into Rumlow’s eyes, making no motion to move.

“Good.”  The Asset felt a fist collide with his gut and he held back the urge to double over and cringe in pain.  He stood his ground as he was dealt another blow to the ribs, barely making a sound as he braced himself against every punch.  It was as if he was Rumlow’s personal punching bag, and already he was bruising from the blows.  He knew bones would break, but he healed easy enough.  It wouldn't kill him.

The Winter Soldier kept a straight face as the other man’s fist collided with his jaw, then his mouth, his nose, and anywhere within an arm’s-length.  Blood dripped down his chin, but he made no move to wipe it up.  He stared ahead of him, waiting for Rumlow to be satisfied.  It felt like forever, and he silently begged for it to be over.

_Please stop.  I can’t take much more of this.  Why are you doing this?_

The final blow nearly broke him down, and he faltered, barely managing to keep himself standing up straight.  He let out the smallest grunt of pain before Rumlow spit in his bloodied and bruised face and then backed off.  His eyes followed the man’s every move, and the Soldier’s stance almost wavered when he saw Rumlow grabbing a revolver off a table.  

The Asset recognized the revolver instantly.  It was a Nagant M1895; something he hadn't used before, but was familiar with.  He watched Rumlow load the barrel as he approached.  Anger flashed through the man’s eyes and the room was eerily silent.  The Soldier could feel everyone’s eyes on them.  It sent chills down his spine, but he refused to move.  The only time he wavered, even in the slightest, was when Rumlow aimed the gun at his head.  He shut his eyes, his breathing picked up and the fingers of his right hand shook.  He was afraid.

This was a new feeling to The Soldier.  He’d never really identified any feelings before.  Was he supposed to feel anything?  No. He was a weapon.  He swallowed down his fear and stood up straighter, hoping his posture would please Rumlow.  He couldn't see the gun in his peripheral vision, but he could hear the click of the hammer being pulled back.  He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until Rumlow released the trigger.  He expected pain.  He expected to be dead.  He expected to feel blood pouring out of the side of his head, but instead, he heard an empty clink.

_That cylinder was empty._

The Soldier exhaled slowly the moment Rumlow aimed the gun away from his head.  Instead, the hand holding the gun rested on his shoulder, right next to his ear.  It didn’t put his mind at ease, but he was silently grateful that it was aimed away from him.

"You know what I'm here for, 32557038?  You know why they placed me in charge?”  Rumlow wasn't looking for an answer.  The Soldier just stared back into those dark brown eyes, keeping a straight face.

“Because you failed.  I’m here to teach you about pain.  I am here to teach you a lesson.  I am not Alexander Pierce.  I am not as forgiving as he was.  You failed under his command.  With me, that is no longer an option.  Now, I look at your last three missions and I think to myself "Damn, do I really deserve a weapon that has misfired the last three times we used it?"  Do I? Answer me."  

"No."  

"Thought so.  That’s why we’re going to try something new.  Fail again, and you’re dead.  This is your only warning.  Think of this as your second chance; don’t let me down.”  Rumlow didn’t wait for a nod or a word of acknowledgement before he pulled the hammer back and started emptying the barrel right next to his ear.

 **BANG!**  His ears were ringing after the first shot.  

Five more shots followed in quick succession.  The more Rumlow fired, the more pain it caused.  He bit back his cries as the ringing in his ears overpowered his senses, but he refused to move.  He refused to crumple.  He would prove to Rumlow that he wouldn't fail again.

His whole body was shaking; and he couldn't quite pinpoint the reason.  He watched as Rumlow pulled the gun away from his head, setting it aside.  Too many emotions were running through his mind and he couldn't understand them all.  He wanted them to go away.  It didn’t feel right; it felt unnatural.  It made him feel sick.  It didn’t help that the ringing in his ears now dominated every thought in his mind.

The Soldier tried his hardest to keep a straight face, eyes following Rumlow and he noticed that he was speaking, _but he couldn't hear the words he was saying_.  Panic suddenly set in.  His hearing was an essential part of his purpose.  He shifted his gaze towards one of the doctors, only to be backhanded by Rumlow the moment he moved.  

The Soldier’s eyes widened, unsure of what Rumlow was saying as he watched his lips move.  He knew he was shouting, angry, but all he could hear was the ringing in his head.  He didn’t know how long the ringing would last, but Rumlow was still yelling until one of the doctor’s approached him and seemed to whisper something to him.  He watched as a notepad was presented to him and the man quickly scribbled down something.

 _“Do not move, do not eat, drink or sleep unless I say otherwise.  I will see you later.”_  Rumlow wrote before he walked out of the room.  He briefly shut his eyes, trying to collect himself as he felt his doctors rushing around him, poking and prodding him with a needle.  He stood still, feeling the needle pushing into his arm before they hooked him up to two separate infusion bags.  He knew, remembered, that one was for re-hydration, but he wasn't sure what purpose the other served.  He couldn't ask; and wouldn't.  He didn’t care.  It didn’t matter. He just remembered that it sometimes felt like it numbed the pain.  Maybe it would silence the ringing in his ears.  

The Soldier kept still, eyes blinking slowly.  He stood unmoving from his spot in the center of the room until he could no longer gauge how much time had passed.  Engineers, doctors and other agents had come and gone as they pleased, walking around him or checking up on the bruises and wounds as they passed by and left the room.  Still, the ringing didn’t stop, and it was driving him mad.  He wanted to scream.  Instead, he kept track of the shift changes between each guard.  He couldn't count how many hours passed between each change, not exactly, but he estimated it was about four hours.  There were always two guards sitting by the door, unmoving, their weapons slung over their shoulders.

A few more hours passed before the ringing in his ears finally died down.  Now all he could hear was silence, and it wasn't like the silence you hear in an empty room.  It sounded more like waves crashing along a shoreline mixed with radio static, along with the muffled feeling of his head being crushed by pillows.  Everything seemed hazy and it was disorienting.  Was the muffled white noise he was hearing all in his head or was the room making that sound?  

His thoughts were interrupted when the scent of warm food wafted into the room the second the door opened and his guards were presented with their meals.  It teased his senses, nearly making The Asset feel sick.   He couldn't remember the last time he had food.  He kept still; this was something he could easily ignore.

The only time The Winter Soldier had any contact with a human being for the next few hours was when his doctors came in to change his infusion bags and check his injuries.  He still ached, some spots still throbbed from the pain but he didn’t show it.  He didn’t move.  There were a few moments where a feeling of lightheartedness overcame him, but he stood his ground.  He almost faltered a few times, but he shut his eyes, licked his lips and stood up a bit straighter; as if that would fix the problem.

A few more hours passed and he began to notice a trend with the guards.  Some threw things at him, knowing he couldn't retaliate, others mocked him; leaving their posts to write him mean messages for him to read on a piece of paper.  It didn’t bother him.  He locked himself in his own mind, making up fight sequences and running them through his head over and over.  Sometimes little snippets of a memory would burst through when he thought of his fight sequences.  It felt like he had used some of the moves and sequences on someone else before, but he couldn't place a name or a face.  It wasn't important.

The Asset’s thoughts were interrupted when Rumlow appeared in his line of sight.  His mind cleared instantly, thinking nothing other than to obey.  He didn’t even get a second to straighten up when Rumlow’s fist collided with the side of his face.  He bit back a cry of pain at the impact, but he stood up straight, slowly turning his head back to face forward, eyes trying to mask the pain he was feeling from the sudden blow.  His lips parted slightly, just enough to let a small trickle of blood drip down his chin and onto his clothes.  

Rumlow mouthed something to the doctors that The Winter Soldier couldn't understand before he backed away slowly, his eyes never leaving the Soldier’s gaze.  It didn’t take long for the men in white lab coats to approach him and start cutting him out of the shirt he’d stolen from the thrift store.  He wanted to shrink back from the cold air that suddenly greeted his scarred and bruised torso, but he clenched his teeth and kept still as Rumlow approached him again.  
  
Shutting his eyes, the Soldier braced against the impact as a fist connected with his rib cage.  He let out the smallest pained grunt as more bruises were added to the injuries he had sustained earlier, some layered on top of another.  The more Rumlow beat him, the harder it was getting to stay upright.  He started counting the punches in his head.

 _Six.  Seven._  Grunt.  Eight.   _Nine.  Ten._  
  
The Soldier’s vision hazed to black, fading in and out every few seconds after number thirteen.  Unable to keep himself upright, he fell to his knees before landing on his side.  The beating still didn’t stop.  He wasn't sure how long he lay there, but it was almost a welcome feeling.  Parts of his body throbbed from the pain and his legs ached from standing for so long, but lying on the floor meant Rumlow could kick him, and he did.  He ignored the rough blows, inhaling sharply every time Rumlow’s foot hit a tender spot.  

Then it all stopped, and he looked up to see his doctors standing over him.  He bit back a pained groan as they were lifting him back onto his feet, cuffing his hands behind his back.  A black hood was placed over his head as they walked him out of the room.  They were taking him somewhere.  Usually, the only time his handlers moved him was to hose him down, so he assumed that they were going to clean him up.  

_He was dead wrong._

The Soldier choked out a surprised gasp when he felt a hand around his throat and lifting him up off the floor, manhandling him into a large tub of ice-cold water.  He let out a loud cry of shock as soon as the water touched his skin, squirming around as the large hand held him down, pushing him further into the water.  He gulped down large quantities of air rapidly, eyes wide underneath the dark hood.  At first, the water was so cold, it felt like the water was scorching his skin, but after a few minutes the Asset started to adjust slowly to the temperature, thinking back to when he was put in his chamber.  The chamber was always cold and this was just like it.  

Every few minutes, the hand forcing him to stay neck-deep under water would push his head under the surface unexpectedly.  He squirmed underneath the frigid water as he tried to force his head back up for air, chest heaving and aching once he finally breached the surface.  The bone-chilling waters did not soothe his aching body and after ten minutes, he was shivering uncontrollably.  This was definitely different from his tiny, cold chamber.

The Asset felt thankful when he was pulled out of the water, only to scream in agony when he was thrown into a separate tub of scalding hot water.  Tears rolled down his cheeks from the pain, but his screams went ignored. The heat from the water felt as though it was already blistering his skin, but he couldn't tell.  He was already fighting not to black out again from the pain, struggling to stay awake.  He was told to ordered awake unless ordered otherwise.  

The Soldier couldn't take the pain anymore.  He pulled at his restraints the second a hand forced him under the steaming hot water.  The metal arm broke free moments later and flew up, gripping and twisting at the arm holding him under the water.  He could feel the faint vibration of a bone breaking at the pressure and the motion of the twist.  He regretted that action almost instantly and let go, pulling his metal arm back into the water.  He realized it was too late to apologize as a fist collided with his face, effectively knocking him out.  

By the time The Soldier woke up, he was lying in the center of the cement-walled room with the single metal door again.  He stood up quickly, wavering slightly as he tried to find his balance.  His limbs ached more than ever, his skin red and sensitive from the scalding water.  His pants were still somewhat damp so he knew he hadn't been out for too long.  His eyes widened when he could hear the muffled sound of a door opening.

 _He could hear again._  

The Asset straightened himself up as Rumlow came into view and he swallowed hard, eyeing the cast on his arm.  He felt conflicted about what he had done, but it didn’t matter, because this was a mistake; _a malfunction_.  Weapons should not malfunction; but he did, and he could be killed for it.  Rumlow had made it clear that another mistake meant death.  He held his breath.

“You see this?”  Rumlow held the arm in the cast up to him, eyes full of anger.  His voice sounded muffled, like someone was holding a pillow over his mouth.  It took the assassin a few moments to understand him.  “What the _fuck_ do you have to say for yourself?  Speak!”

“I malfunctioned.  It won’t happen again.”  

“Well just to be sure, an eye for an eye, right?”  A wicked smirk danced across Rumlow’s face at those words, and he reached over to grab the Asset’s right wrist, quickly twisting it behind his back and forcing enough pressure on him for the bone to break.  He clenched his jaw, biting back the tears as the other man quickly let go, shoving the broken arm back down to his side.

The moment Rumlow walked away and started whistling a tune, The Soldier could feel his blood run cold.   _The tune._  He couldn’t stand it.  It was like nails on a chalkboard.  He shut his eyes, trying to shut out the uneasiness he felt when hearing the song.  His nightmare only became worse when he heard the song blasting through the speaker system overhead.

_Tiptoe through the window_   
_By the window, that is where I'll be_   
_Come tiptoe through the tulips with me…_

\---

_ **September 3rd, 2016** _

_Beep!  Beep! Beep!_

Steve groaned as he stirred awake, reaching over to shut his alarm clock off.  He welcomed the interruption, as his nightmares weren't getting any better.  It didn’t help that it had been four days since he had last slept and Sam begged him to get some rest last night.  He had been overworking himself again and despite the nightmares, the small amount of rest he had gotten was much needed.

_Beep!  Beep!  Beep!_

His eyes snapped open when he heard the alarm again.  He thought he turned it off.  He glanced at the bright red numbers glaring at him and sighed.  It was just past four in the morning and he had an hour left before he had to get up for his morning run.

_Beep!  Beep!  Beep!_

It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't his alarm that woke him up, but his phone.  He picked up the device, glancing at the screen before he answered, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Good morning, Nat,” Steve croaked sleepily.

_”We found him.  Hydra must have caught up with him after SHIELD fell apart.”_

“What?  Are you sure?  Where is he?”  The news woke him up instantly.  Steve’s heart was racing.  He covered his face with one hand, grinning from ear to ear.  That was the best news he’d heard in two years.

_“He’s in Chersky, Siberia, if Stark’s energy read-outs from the area are correct.”_

_“They are correct, Natasha!  I double and triple checked.  Something’s going on in that area; and wasn't I the one that discovered Rumlow’s electronic paper trail?”_  Stark’s voice echoed through the receiver.  He was on speakerphone; he should have known.  He rolled his eyes but sat up, getting out of bed.

_“Now grab your winged buddy and get your star-spangled butt over here so you can get your boy back.  Barton already has the quinjet prepared for takeoff.”_

The call ended abruptly, and Steve’s mind raced as he got up and rushed to prepare for this mission.  He could feel the excitement coursing through his body, every last nerve on alert.  It was an understatement to say that he was anxious to get over there to save his best friend.  Part of him wished the serum had allowed him to teleport over there to save Bucky right this instant. He shuffled over to Sam’s bedroom, knocking quietly before he pushed open the door.

“Sam, wake up!  Nat and Stark found him.”

“Wha--?  Oh…”  Sam grumbled into his pillow sleepily.  “Found who?”

“Bucky, now get up and get around.  We’re flying out to Siberia A.S.A.P.”

“Siberia?  He’s there?”

“Chersky, Siberia, to be exact.  Now get up!  The jet is already waiting for us.”  With that, Steve left to go wash up, suit up and get going.  It wouldn't take him long to shower and get himself around, so once he finished, he started making breakfast.  

By the time Sam was up and around, Steve had a stack of pancakes set out on the table for the both of them to dig into along with two mugs of coffee.  Once Sam joined him, they ate quietly for a few moments before Sam spoke up.

“So, you got a plan of attack?”

“Not really.  We don’t know his exact location.  We’ll probably have a better understanding of the situation and layout of the town when we get to the Avengers Tower.  Stark’s got a quinjet waiting for us there,”  Steve said as he finished off his pancakes and got up to clean up the mess he made in the kitchen.

They were on their way to the Avengers headquarters within the hour.  Natasha met them in the lobby, exchanging brief “hello”’s before they made their way up to the Avengers common area to work out a plan.  As soon as the elevator doors slid open, the three of them were greeted with a hologram of what Steve assumed to be Chersky hovering over the large, empty floor space.  

“Hey there, sleeping beauties.  We've been waiting forever for you two to get here.  How long’s it been, Romanov?  Forty-five minutes?  An hour?”  Steve rolled his eyes and walked over to the hologram display of the settlement.  The area looked like an industrial site, with tall, cement buildings overshadowing smaller residential areas.  Along the outskirts of the town stood another large, one storey building, and Steve squinted.  He caught movement in the windows.  

“Is this live, Stark?”  Steve pointed to the building in question.

“Yeah, my satellites noticed something fishy about that building.  The energy read-outs seemed a bit high compared to the rest of the city.  It was scheduled for demolition about five years ago, but someone bought it out last minute.”

“So how do you know Bucky’s there?”

“It’s just a guess, Steve, but this building is definitely Hydra.  Rollins and Rumlow have been spotted in the area by Stark’s satellites and the purchases he made confirmed it.  We both know they have ties to The Winter Soldier, so you might have been right after all, Rogers,”  Nat said with a smirk.  Steve wasn't sure if that was good news or bad news, but he’d take what he could get.  

“Hey Clint.”  No answer came from Barton, who was sprawled out on the couch.  Steve quickly crumpled up a piece of paper and tossed it at him.  “Barton!  Hey!”

Clint quickly scrambled to turn his hearing aids back on, sitting up straight before coughing out a quick “Yeah, I’m listening.”

“Hey, how long do you think it’d take for us to get to Chersky?”  Steve eyed the hologram again.

“About eight hours.  Think you can handle that?”  Barton barked back and Steve nodded before the archer’s focus turned to Wilson.  “And you must be Sam Wilson.  Heard a bit about you after what happened to SHIELD.  Good job.”  

Barton nodded towards Sam and Steve smiled at his friend.

“Yeah, thanks, man.  You did pretty good fighting those aliens in New York.”  Clint gave a half-hearted smile in return.  Steve knew there was a reason for that but he wasn't about to dive into the nitty-gritty of what happened.  He could tell by the look on Barton’s face that he still felt guilty for what happened, despite everyone telling him that it wasn't his fault.

“So what else can you tell me about the building, Stark?”

“I haven’t noticed anything else out of the ordinary except the energy spikes,” the engineer said with a shrug.

“I did notice a pattern with shipments coming in,” Clint stated.  “It seems that the building gets deliveries every Tuesday and Thursday.  We don’t know what is being shipped to that location, but it always arrives at the base late into the night and the truck doesn't leave until early morning.”

“Do you know where they’re coming from?”

“The docks.”

“Alright, I've got a plan.  We can talk about it in the jet on the way over.  You guys ready?”  Steve desperately wanted to get a move on.  It was pushing six o’clock now and they’d need to be in the air within the next few minutes for his plan to work.  The Captain watched as Nat, Clint and Sam gathered up their things and started walking towards the jet sitting out on the landing pad outside.  
  
“Have you clocked what time the shipment arrives at the docks, Clint?”  Steve asked as he stepped into the quinjet and sat down in one of the seats.    
  
“The shipments usually come into the docks by 2100 hours and are shipped out to the base by 2300 hours.  Are you planning to intercept them?”  Clint buckled himself into the pilot’s seat as Natasha started emptying her bag.

“That’s the plan, Clint.”  Steve said with a smile before turning his attention to Nat.  “What’s this?”

“New Stark Tech.  These are miniature drones outfitted with repulsor engines, cameras and scanning technology run by Jarvis.  They also have a USB cable hookup that you can plug into any computer to store data you collect on missions.  These are matching earpieces that the AI will use to warn us about any oncoming enemies.”  Natasha started handing out earpieces along with the drones they went with to everyone.  She then set aside Clint’s and her drone before joining him in the co-pilot’s seat.  The drones were just small enough to fit in his hand, so it would be easy enough to hide in his pocket until it needed to be used.

“So what’s the plan again, Steve?”  Sam piped up as he buckled into the seat across from him and the jet took off.

“We intercept the shipment before it reaches the base.  We’ll have an easier time getting into the facility that way.  Were we able to get a floor plan for this building?”

“I will find one for you, Captain Rogers,” came Jarvis’ polite British voice in the overhead speakers.  That was a surprise, but it was Stark’s quinjet so he should have assumed he’d outfitted the aircraft with his advanced AI technology.

“Alright, thanks.”  Steve sat back for a few moments, flipping the drone over in his hands carefully, inspecting the new piece of technology.  

“Once we get in, Sam, you and I will run ahead and take the east wing.  Clint and Nat, you've got the west.  Clean out any room that’s unlocked and try not to raise any alarms.  Any sign of Barnes and you contact me, got it?”

“And what about Rollins and Rumlow?  They’re the ones that escaped prison two years ago, right?”  Clint yelled over the roaring engines as the jet surged forward.

“Yeah, they’re going to be heavily armed and very dangerous.  If you see them, take them down immediately.”  Jarvis came back, interrupting Steve as he announced that he had found the floor plans for the Hydra base.  He quickly ordered it to be displayed before them, and once the three-dimensional hologram faded into view, Sam and Steve hunched over the display.

“Alright, it looks like the loading dock is along the south end of the building, so that’s where we get off.  Who wants to drive the truck?”

“I will.  I've memorized the route the trucks take to get to the base.”  Clint answered.

“Alright, good.  Nat, once we reach the docks, use your charm on the driver,”  Steve winked, and Nat smirked.  They talked the plan through over the next hour, working out the kinks and finalizing their plans.  Their only concern was that the Winter Soldier would interrupt their attack on the base and if that happened, they could easily be taken out.

Over the next few hours, they made small talk about what they’d been up too.  Clint had been stationed in Detroit for the past two years going deep undercover to try and bust an arms dealer trying to smuggle weapons across the border.  Natasha had been trying to create new covers to replace the one’s she’d blown during the SHIELD/Hydra leak.  Sam was drifting off just as they were flying over Canada, so Steve sat back and tried to relax.  He couldn't seem to silence his mind for the first few hours in the air, but eventually the thrum of the engines eased his troubled thoughts.

Almost eight hours since takeoff, Clint announced they were flying over Chersky and were set to land in a field just outside the settlement within the next five minutes.  

“We've got a half hour window to get to the docks once we land, so be ready to book it as soon as the cargo bay opens,” Steve said as he pressed the earpiece into his ear.  Everyone was grabbing their gear and preparing to land within a few minutes, bracing themselves for the landing.

As soon as the quinjet touched the ground and the cargo bay opened, the four of them rushed out.  They only spent enough time in the field to secure their aircraft before they started making their way to the docks.  They quickly made their way towards the shoreline, bracing themselves against the frigid temperatures.  

Hydra sure knew how to pick the ideal spot for isolation.  It was so much easier to stay hidden that way, and a cold place like Chersky, Siberia wasn't a pleasant place to be if you were used to warmer temperatures.  The four of them shivered and pushed on as they made their way towards the docks.  No one complained about the frigid temperatures that they weren't really prepared for, but no one looked like they were enjoying themselves either.

By the time they reached the docks, it was almost too late.  The truck was just about to pull out of the loading area and Natasha quickly rushed ahead.  Steve wasn't sure what she had told the driver, but he saw her pry open the drivers-side door and knock the man unconscious moments later.  She gave the all clear a few seconds later and the three of them quickly approached the rig.  Clint took his position in the drivers seat and Nat joined Sam and Steve in the back, ducking behind a few large, wooden crates.

The team was silent for the entire trip to the Hydra base.  It wouldn't take long to get to their destination; the streets were nearly deserted and the settlement wasn't too big.  The rig made a few brief stops before Clint warned them that they were approaching the base.  Steve pulled his drone out of his pocket and waited, glancing at his colleagues for a brief moment as the truck came to a stop.

“ _Wait for me to back into the loading dock, and keep yourselves hidden,_ ”  Clint stated over their earpieces.  They all ducked behind a few crates and waited patiently as they felt the rig lurch backwards.  

_This was it._

Two minutes later, the door to the rig slid open and he could hear people shouting orders in Russian as hydra agents started unloading the crates into the stockroom.  He turned on the drone, pushing it upwards to hover in the air, just to get a sense of how many men they were dealing with.  The agents that had started unloading the truck went silent and ceased working as they noticed the small orb floating in the air.  The drone emitted a laser, scanning the area quickly before propelling itself forward into the facility.

“ _Five targets directly ahead of you, Captain Rogers.  I am now scanning the premises for potential danger._ ”  Jarvis informed through his earpiece.  Steve leaned back, inhaling slowly before he reached for his shield.  He darted out from behind a set of crates, throwing his shield.  It struck two Hydra agents down as he was charging the third.  Natasha followed suit, taking down the fourth and fifth shortly after Clint and Sam joined the fray.

The job had been simple so far.  It only took five minutes for them to clear the stock room of threats.

“Jarvis, what’s in the crates?”  Steve whispered.

“ _Firearms, sir._ ”  Jarvis stated after the drone had done a quick scan before waiting for the group at the door located in the far corner of the room.

“Alright, lets get a move on,” Nat said, and Steve didn’t need to make any excuses to stay in this section.  He slowly opened the door, letting Jarvis through first to scan the area before they moved on.

“ _Eight targets.  Six moving targets, two to the east and four to the west and two stationary targets located along the far west corridor._ ”

Steve relayed the information to the team before he pushed through the door, throwing his shield towards an agent opening one of the doors.  He raced down the west wing of the building with Sam tailing behind, taking down another agent as he caught his shield.  Natasha and Clint were racing down the east wing, quickly taking down the two agents before they started to clear the rooms.  

Steve’s plan of not raising any alarms had backfired the second he had thrown his shield at the first agent, as the two men standing at the end of the hallway started firing their guns at both Sam and Steve.  That would be a setback, but he pushed forward, dodging bullets and throwing punches, knocking the guards out as Sam fought off more agents coming up from behind them.

Wilson was in the air moments later, swooping down and kicking anyone that Steve couldn't get to in time.  The Captain was bloody and bruised by the time he started clearing the first room.  It was empty save for a few desks and a few filing cabinets, so he moved on.  Steve plowed through a few more agents quickly as he pushed into the next room.  This room was just like the last and he groaned, repeating the process for every room in the wing, fighting off a few engineers or agents that had stayed behind every few minutes.  

Steve finally reached the end of the hallway, and a large metal door stood in his way.  He could hear gunshots firing in the distance, and he quickly checked on everyone’s welfare before he decided to see what was on the other side.

“Everyone okay?”

“ _Fine, Rogers.  You find him yet?_ ”  Nat’s voice came out strained, breath heavy as he heard her taking down a hydra agent.

“Not yet.  I haven’t gotten to the last room yet.  Clint, how are you?”

“ _I've been worse.  Any sign of Rollins or Rumlow?_ ”

“Not yet.  Sam, how are you holding up?”  Steve was honestly starting to lose hope.  Stark had sounded so sure that Rollins and Rumlow were in the area based on what he had tracked down, yet they were nowhere in sight.  Now he was doubting that Bucky would be here.

“I’m fine as long as I don’t have a quinjet after me.”  Steve rolled his eyes at Sam’s comment.

“ _Found Rollins.  He’s got friends._ ”  Nat called out over their earpieces.  

“Sam, go help Clint and Nat.  I've got this.”  Steve ordered.  This was a stupid decision.  It was reckless and it could kill him, but he felt that he needed to do this alone if Rumlow was behind that metal door.  

The hallway was empty, save for the bodies littering the floor.  Steve turned back to the large metal door as Sam left to join his colleagues.  He kicked one of the guards that had blocked the door aside and shut his eyes, clearing his mind.  The Captain sighed heavily before he slowly pushed open the door, ducking behind his shield as a hail of bullets greeted him.   Heading straight into the line of fire, he sprinted into the room.

Steve grunted in pain as he felt a body collide with his, sending him crashing to the floor.  The shield was quickly torn away from his arm and tossed aside before the being on top of him started throwing punches.

“HOLD YOUR FIRE!”  a familiar voice boomed over the commotion.   _Rumlow_.  The gunfire ceased seconds later, and that gave Steve enough time for his vision to clear after the first few blows to the skull.  He looked up and his eyes widened.   _Bucky_.

“Finish him, Soldier!  You were _made_ for this.”  Bucky’s left arm raised up to throw another punch, his metal fist connecting with Steve’s cheek.  He tried to push himself out of Bucky’s grip, but his thighs pinned them down to his sides.  Steve wasn't going to fight him.  He’d let this happen, because as soon as he saw that arm, the guilt set in.  Bucky threw another punch, his fist connecting with his nose.  

His friend didn’t stop; he didn’t even look like he was getting tired of beating the snot out of Steve.  His vision was starting to go black, and he wondered how bad he looked right now.  Rumlow seemed to be having a good time watching Bucky pound his fist into Steve’s face.  At least someone was having fun.

“This is the end of the line for you, pal.  Got any last words?”  Rumlow smirked.  The air seemed to shift at those words, and Bucky stopped his brutal attack on Steve’s face.  Through swollen eyelids, he noticed the look in the other man’s eyes, full of fear and sadness.

“Steve?”  The name escaped Bucky’s lips as a silent breath, but the Captain caught it.  He could feel his own breath catch in his throat when he heard his friend say his name.  Then anger flashed through Bucky’s eyes as he shifted his gaze towards Rumlow and launched himself at the man.  Steve couldn't bother to bring himself to his feet and stop Bucky.  He could hear Bucky’s metal fist pounding into Rumlow’s face seconds later.  The sound of bones snapping and the angry cries escaping Bucky’s lips chilled Steve to the bone.

He groaned, slowly pushing himself up onto his feet, the cuts and bruises along his face throbbing and bleeding freely.  He raced over to take out the Hydra agent that had fired the gun at him when he entered the room before he turned his attention back towards Bucky.  He desperately wanted to ignore the man beating Rumlow to death, but it was just too much, too _gruesome_.  Maybe he deserved it, but it wasn't Bucky.  It wasn't what he would have wanted, so Steve stumbled over to his friend and cautiously reached over to touch his shoulder.

“Buck, stop.”  The words didn’t make him stop, even if they were a bit slurred.  He wasn't listening.  He couldn't hear Steve over his own rage.  He had to be more forceful, so he quickly hooked his arms underneath Bucky’s and dragged him away from Rumlow.  He spun him around swiftly, hugging him tight against his body.  “Not like this, Bucky.  Please.”  

Steve could feel Bucky shaking against him, fingers clutching onto him tight.  His grip would leave a bruise, but neither of them seemed to care.  For the first few minutes, Bucky didn’t say anything, but in the smallest, breathless voice, he spoke.

“I’m so sorry.   _I’m so sorry_.  S-sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translation:  
> Did you miss us, 32557038?  
> Mission report.  
> Failure.  
> Captain Ameri--  
> I don’t want to hear it.  
> Wipe him, then put him in cryo until further notice.  
> It hurts. Please sto--
> 
> I used google translate for the Russian you see in the first chapter. If it is incorrect, please message me and tell me! I'd be happy to fix it.
> 
> Special thanks goes to: [Love A Letter Bomb](http://lovealetterbomb.tumblr.com/), for helping me edit this chapter and brainstorming ideas. Please go follower her if you haven't already! She's super amazing.


	2. There's a Maniac Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is slowly starting to remember his past, but he's plagued by memories of his time with Hydra. Meanwhile, Steve has to try to adjust to the new Bucky.  
>  **Trigger Warnings: Drug use/Withdrawals, Self-harm**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You stare in the mirror and the evil you see  
> Is the menace within you that you have set free  
> Unleashing the beast brings the freedom you seek  
> But there's no escaping maniacal me

_ **September 4th, 2016** _

Red.

It was the color of anger, of pure rage.  It was the color of the star on Bucky’s arm, and the only color he was seeing right now.  It was the color of the blood on his hands, the color marked in his ledger.  It was the color of the fire burning down the walls in his mind that had kept him prisoner for so long.  The color overwhelmed him.

The only sound echoing throughout the room was coming from Steve.  Bucky’s gaze slowly fell on the other man, who had collapsed back onto the floor by his feet, beaten bruised and bloody by his own fist.  Steve hadn't said anything to him, just pressed his face into Bucky’s side, tears running down his cheeks.  He did not like the closeness; it felt foreign to him and he stiffened up at the feeling.  The touch made him uncomfortable, so he slowly inched away.  

Since killing Rumlow wasn't an option, the only thing Bucky thought would get rid of the red was to destroy what had made him.  The more he stared at the chair and the cryochamber, the more red he saw.  The color bled from every corner of the room.  It bled from the machine that had caused him so much pain, and the device that had made him sleep for decades.

Bucky stepped forward slowly, the metal hand clenching into a fist as he approached the chair.  He felt in control of himself for the first time in a long time as he started tearing apart the chair and the apparatus that had caused him so much pain.  The anger only intensified as the parts he ripped off the machines started piling up on the floor.  It was an uncontrollable anger, but this feeling was something of his own; something no one else had ordered him to feel or do.  It was liberating, yet it overwhelmed him.  

Bucky drove his metal fist through the small window of his cryochamber.  The satisfaction sent chills down his spine and he momentarily drew back from the feeling.  He could feel his head spinning from the flood of emotions and memories racing through his mind as he tore the door off of his small chamber.  He ripped apart anything he could get his hands on that belonged to Hydra.  He should stop.  He wanted to stop, but his body wouldn't allow it.

“Ty v bezopasnosti, Soldat. Vy mozhete ostanovit' seychas.”  The voice startled him for a second; it was soothing, not forceful but it wasn't too gentle.  The red had disappeared as soon as he heard a young woman speaking to him in Russian.  He turned, dropping the keyboard he had torn in half as he suddenly became aware of what he had done.

“Steve, are you okay?”  The same voice spoke, and Bucky’s eyes swept the room slowly until they fell on a woman with red hair.  She looked familiar but he couldn't quite place how he knew her just yet.  He bit his lip as two more people filed into the room and quickly assessed the situation.

“Steve, you do this?”  Bucky tuned himself out of his surroundings.  It was so easy to just shut himself out of his surroundings when he no longer had a purpose.  He could just disappear back into his own mind and sift through the mess until he was given orders.  He rooted himself in the middle of the room, staying in that position for what felt like hours.  

“Soldat, prosnut'sya.  My dolzhny dvigat'sya.” the redhead said as she approached him.

“Peremeshcheniye gde?”

“Etot ob"yekt ne yavlyayetsya bezopasnym bol'she.  My dolzhny ostavit'.  My voz'mem vas v nadezhnom meste.”

Bucky nodded slowly, understanding the order and allowed his feet to move; to follow.  He heard the redheaded woman asking the others what they should do with Rumlow.  He was still alive, but barely.  Steve ordered him not to kill him, so he obeyed.  What about the other man?  He couldn't remember the name, but he remembered the face.  He was there, sitting on the sidelines when Rumlow beat him.  

Steve was on his feet now, looking a little less bruised but just as bloody as he’d left him.  He watched as the Captain stood over the man that had terrorized and controlled him over the past few months and picked him up, throwing his unconscious body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Alright, lets go.”  Steve grunted, and Bucky followed everyone out without question or complaint.  He wasn't sure where they were going but he wasn't going to ask questions.  He measured out his steps as they walked out the building.  He took in his surroundings as they walked; he’d never stepped outside of the building.  He was never allowed to know his exact location.  He wasn't sure where they were, but it was cold.  It wasn't nearly as cold as his little chamber, but it brought back memories that made him recoil and shrink in on himself as he moved forward.

They walked for about half an hour until they approached a field where a quinjet was waiting for them.  Bucky marched forward with the group, and once the cargo bay door opened, he hesitantly stepped forward as the others climbed inside and got settled in.  Rumlow was placed in the farthest corner of the quinjet and handcuffed to a bar.  Bucky took a seat, staring blankly ahead of him.  He was trying to shut down all the thoughts racing through his cluttered mind.  It wasn't working.

Steve took a seat next to him, and he shrunk away before quickly moving to the other side of the quinjet.  He didn’t want to be near that man; not while his memories were haunting him.  Then the engines in the quinjet fired up and Bucky instantly covered his ears, eyes widening in fear.  He froze as the jet took off, keeping his hands clamped to the sides of his head to try and shut out the sound.

“Are you okay, Bucky?”  It took him a few moments to comprehend an answer and he shook his head quickly, trying to make himself small.  Steve almost looked like he wanted to ask about it but Sam gave him a look that told him not to pry.  Not yet.  His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a chuckle over the roar of the engines.  His eyes darted to Rumlow, only to shut his eyes when he noticed the look of pure malice in his eyes.

“You’ll never win, Captain,”  Rumlow slurred, movements slow and pained as he gave Steve a challenging expression, lips still contorted in a grin.  “Your one weakness will be the death of you.”  

Rumlow’s gaze soon shifted to Bucky, and he could feel his own blood running cold.  He gritted his teeth, looking down into his lap, unable to make eye contact.  The color red flashed before his eyes again, and he clenched his hands into fists and tried to suppress his anger.

“Shut up, man.  The little game you’re playing is over.  You’re going back to that tiny little cell you crawled out of as soon as we get back to America.  You’re never gonna see the light of day again.”  The man with the wings had said.  He swore he had seen him somewhere before too, but he couldn't quite place it.

“Oh, it’s far from over.  The game is just beginning, isn't it, Soldier?”  Bucky refused to look up from his lap, but he could hear the smirk in Rumlow’s voice.  

“Though, you’re right about one thing--”   _Snap_.  

“My time is up.”  Rumlow said through gritted teeth, and Bucky looked up just in time to see him foaming at the mouth and struggling to breathe.  The other men were rushing around Rumlow to try and save him, but it was too late.  The moment he took that capsule, he was pretty much gone.  He was dead within a minute and Bucky felt nothing.  He felt numb.  He glanced down at his hands, still clenched into fists, and slowly uncurled his fingers.

There was blood on his hands, _so much blood_.  It wasn't even his, and the man standing across from him on the jet was proof of that.  Bucky wasn't sure what to say.  He felt numb, and he welcomed the feeling over everything else.  He’d rather feel numb than regret.  He’d rather not feel anything because it’s what he was used to.  He was programmed to get the job done without the human element getting in the way of the task.  Feel too much, remember too much, and he was bound to make a mistake.

“I’m so sorry.”  Bucky couldn't stop repeating those words.  He wasn't sure if he was actually saying it to Steve, or to himself for disobeying orders.  He could no longer look at Steve.  The cuts and the bruises littering his face only reminded him of what he had done and he did not need a reminder of the small sliver of guilt he felt.  He drummed his fingers against his knees, trying to quiet his mind.  It didn’t work.  I’m so sorry.

“I forgive you, Bucky.”  Steve’s voice was gentle, still slurred from a swollen lip, but he sounded sincere.  Bucky ignored it.  He wanted to deny that he felt regret.  If he denied that he felt anything, then it didn’t happen.

They had been in the air for a little over four hours and he suddenly wanted out.  He didn’t want to be near Steve.  He didn’t want to see Rumlow’s dead body.  It was too much.  He could take this plane down if he really wanted to, and he did consider it, just to avoid Steve and the memories that were now boiling to the surface.  Taking the jet down meant his own death, and he would welcome it.  He deserved to die for what he had done.

Bucky’s mind felt too cluttered, the memories hitting him in waves.  Some of the memories were good, and some were bad.  He saw little snippets of his life and what he’d done.  He saw Alexander Pierce, Rumlow, Lukin, and those faces chilled him to the bone.  He remembered some of the things they’d told him.  It made his head ache.

It made him hate himself.

Bucky sat through the entire flight silently brooding over his memories.  He glared at Steve every time he tried to get close.  He felt disgusting.  He didn’t deserve to be here; he didn’t deserve to be saved from his own hell.  He should have died there.  He shut his eyes, hands clenching into fists as memories of his time spent with Hydra flashed through his mind in small snippets.  He didn’t want to be here.  He tried to block out his surroundings; he tried to clear his mind because the memories were breaking through the walls of his mind like a dam that had been holding him back from who he was before he fell.

_Bucky fell from a train._

He remembered the look on Steve’s face as gravity took over.  The look in his eyes as he watched Bucky fall was all he could think about.  A feeling of terror coursed through his veins as the memory raced through his head.  Steve’s voice yelling “Bucky!” echoed through his mind and he swallowed hard, trying to shove it all back in.  He tried to make himself smaller, to shrink back in his seat and become invisible because that’s what felt natural to him.

“N-no...No!  No, no no…”  Bucky repeated those words, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Bucky?  What’s wrong?”  He felt a hand on his shoulder and he quickly shoved it away, the metal fingers of his left hand curling into a fist.  The look on Steve’s face looked familiar.  The man was familiar to him.  Bucky knew him.  

“You were on the train with me when I fell…”  Bucky watched as Steve swallowed hard, eyes falling to the floor for a few moments before he looked back up.

“Yeah, Buck.  I was there.”

A bridge flashed through his mind.  He remembered a fight, seeing a knife in his hands, throwing punches and seeing Steve’s panicked face, struggling to keep up with his brutal attacks.  How long had it been between those two incidents?  

“You were the man on the bridge…”  Steve nodded sadly again, but they didn’t get much time to discuss that as the man with the hearing aid told them that they had arrived at their destination, wherever that was.  The quinjet was slowly descending and everyone braced for the landing.

“I knew you.”  Bucky whispered.  Steve just gave him a hopeful smile as the jet touched down.

“Yeah, Buck.  You know me.”

\---

_ **September 8th, 2016** _

The moment the three of them had gotten back to the safe house, Bucky had locked himself Steve’s bathroom and refused to come out.  Steve was concerned since the first night that Bucky refused to open the door, but it was going on day four and he still hadn't said a word or unlocked the door.  Sam had said that he was probably traumatized from the things he was remembering, and Steve felt useless.

While they were waiting for Bucky to come out of hiding, Sam had suggested that Steve get his face checked out by a doctor ‘or something’.  He refused, not wanting to leave the house in case Bucky needed him.  Besides, the bruises were pretty much healed and the cuts weren't as bad.  The swelling had definitely diminished over the past few days so Steve wasn't too concerned.

Tonight was no different.  Steve found himself sitting outside of his bathroom, his back leaning against the door with two plates of spaghetti and meatballs.  He’d offered Bucky a meal every day since he had arrived but the door wouldn't budge.  He’d only ever responded to Steve’s questions by knocking on a hard surface.  

“Bucky, can you hear me?”   _Knock._

“I want to tell you a story.  If that’s alright with you, can you knock twice?”   _Knock.  Knock._

That was progress, though this was the first time Steve really tried to talk to him.  He should have tried sooner, but Sam had said that Bucky might need a bit of space.

“Back in the summer of 1940, you were goin’ out with some beautiful dame named Elaine.  You remember that?  You always liked ‘em blonde, Buck.  She was pretty sharp too; knew how to talk her way out of trouble.”  No response.  Steve didn’t expect to get one.

“You had Elaine set me up with one of her friends for a double date.  You’d planned this big picnic in the park for the four of us a few days beforehand, but I got sick the night before the big day.”  Steve dug into his spaghetti quietly for a moment, sighing as he continued.

“I wasn't sure if I should have felt thankful or upset that I had gotten sick the night before, but you stayed up with me all night takin’ care of me, no matter how tired it made you the next day.  You remember that, Buck?”  Steve felt the door shift on its hinges, like someone was leaning against it.  This was the closest he’d been to Bucky since he left the Hydra facility, and he bit back a smile at the thought.

“It was such a beautiful day too; not a cloud in the sky.  You always liked those days, ‘cause you said that nothin’ could ever go wrong when the sun was out.  You ended up cancelling that double date, but you set out a blanket in the living room, opened up the windows and set out the food you bought for our picnic.”  

Steve stopped when the door shifted again before it slowly opened.  He quickly moved to face the door, setting his meal aside, looking down into his lap for a few moments.  This was the first time Bucky had opened the door; the first time Bucky let anyone look at him or be this close to him.  He wasn't sure how Bucky would react to seeing him, but he was already feeling a bit anxious.  This was progress.  He swallowed hard, looking down into his plate of spaghetti.

“Continue, please.”  Bucky’s voice was hoarse, but sharp and quiet.  He sounded unsure and afraid, and Steve just wanted to pull his friend into his arms and tell him that it was okay.

“Y-you got me out of bed.”  Steve faltered, hesitantly looking up from his plate.  He dared himself to meet Bucky’s gaze, trying to mask his sadness with a smile.  He looked like a mess.  His features were gaunt, the dark circles around his eyes telling Steve that he hadn't slept at all.  He hadn't shaved either, so the five o’clock shadow along his jaw had suddenly grown into something a bit more unkempt.  He wasn't even going to make a comment about the smell.  Bucky was probably too shaken up to really take much care of himself.  He hadn't even washed the blood off of his hands.  

_At least he had Bucky back._

“N’ you had me wrapped up in every blanket we owned, Buck.  I could barely move, considering how sick I was.  You somehow managed to get me into the living room and had me sit down on the blanket like we were having a proper picnic.  I thought it was silly, but played along because you had the biggest smile on your face.  I couldn't ruin it for you, no matter how terrible I was feeling.”  Steve took a bite of his spaghetti slowly before he offered Bucky his own plate.  He watched as the man stared down at the mound of noodles and meatballs on the plate in front of him.

“Y-you haven’t eaten since you got here, Buck.  I figured you’d be hungry.”  Bucky poked at the food with a fork, but didn’t eat.  Steve decided to continue with the story.

“We ended up eating ham and cheese sandwiches and people watching from our apartment window.  It wasn't all too exciting, but you made the best of it.   We listened to the baseball game on the radio a few hours later, but I think I fell asleep on the couch during the 4th inn--”

“It was Hell…”  Bucky cut him off.  The statement threw Steve off for a few moments, and he sat staring at his friend in silence until he gathered up enough courage to speak.

“What do you mean, Bucky?”

“The things they did to me.”  Bucky looked down at the plate of spaghetti.  His food was probably cold by now, but Steve watched as he hesitantly scooped up some noodles with his fork and took a bite.  

“Do you want to talk about it?”  Bucky shook his head as he struggled to swallow.  The food didn’t seem to sit right with him, and he quickly rushed to the toilet to throw it all back up.  The noise of him retching into the toilet echoed throughout the bathroom and Steve couldn't help but frown.  He’d heard Bucky dry heaving a few times before since his arrival and it worried him, but every time he had asked Bucky if he was alright, he wouldn't get an answer.  

Steve wanted to fix things.  He thought about trying to push an answer out of Bucky, thinking that once Bucky opened up about his experience, his memories wouldn't be as horrible.  He bit his tongue when he saw the pained look in his friend’s eyes.  Asking about his experiences now was out of the question.  Instead, he stood up and wandered over to Bucky, leaning over him as he reached down to touch his shoulder.  He was instantly shoved away and met with an icy glare.

“Don’t touch me!”

Steve recoiled, slowly backing up to give Bucky some space.  

“I just want to help, Buck.”  The statement was met with another glare and Steve gave a defeated sigh.  

“Alright, well if you need me, just call for me okay?  And get washed up.  You’re starting to smell.”  Bucky just nodded at the request he made before he picked up the two plates and shut the door behind him.  Steve stopped when he heard weight being applied to the other side of the door.

“You used to be smaller…”  Bucky’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Steve caught it.

“Yeah, Buck.  I was smaller.  Now get washed up.  I’ll set out some clean clothes for you in a few minutes.”

Steve sighed, pushed himself back away from the door, and left the room to clean up the mess in the kitchen.  The rest of the evening was somewhat peaceful.  When he walked back into the bedroom to grab some fresh clothes for Bucky, he heard his shower running and he felt relieved.  Maybe things would get better; at least Bucky was listening to him.

The next day was about the same.  Steve hadn't slept; he was too concerned about Bucky to even get a minute of shut-eye.  He ended up leaning against the bathroom door and reading one of the books Sam had recommended out loud to Bucky, titled Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.  He didn’t get much of a response from him as he read, but he liked to think that his friend was enjoying the book.

The book really wasn't his cup of joe at first, but it turned out to be enjoyable.  It allowed him to momentarily forget about the hurdles he still had to face with Bucky and imagine he was in a magical world of elves, hobbits and wizards.  He read to his friend all night, until the sun broke over the horizon.  When he shut the book, he told Bucky he would be back in an hour with some breakfast after Sam had interrupted him.

“Hey, man.  You should probably get some fresh air or somethin’.  You’ve been cooped up in this house for a few days now and it’s not doin’ you any good.”

Steve sighed, pressing his lips into a hard line for a moment before he looked down into his lap.  Sam was right.  He hadn't left the house in a few days and maybe a bit of fresh air would help him feel better.

“Alright, Sam.  Thanks.  I’ll be up and around in a bit to get us some breakfast.  Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Yeah.  Just get me somethin’ simple, dude.  I’m not picky.”

With that, Steve left to go get the three of them some breakfast.  The fresh air cleared his mind and brought him a bit of happiness back into his unusually-focused demeanor that he had taken up over the past few days.  It was really starting to wear him out.  By the time he arrived back at the safe house, he set out Sam’s breakfast and had two small bowls of oatmeal in his hands that he had ordered from a nearby cafe and decided to see if Bucky had wanted to try to eat again.  He knocked on the bathroom door and sat down, waiting for Bucky to answer.

“I've got breakfast, Buck.  It’s oatmeal.  I got it with the stuff you always used to like.  Apples and maple syrup.  You wanna try it?”  The door slowly swung open a few moments later and Bucky sat down across from him.  Steve gave his friend a hesitant smile and passed over his bowl of oatmeal carefully.

“What you were reading earlier sounds interesting,”  Bucky croaked out as he poked at his oatmeal.  Steve smiled at the statement, surprised that he had listened to him reading aloud.  “Can you read more for me after this?  I-it helps.”

“Helps with what, Bucky?”

“It helps me escape the memories.”  Steve swallowed down a spoonful of his breakfast quickly and frowned.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Bucky shook his head quickly as he struggled to swallow down his first spoonful of oatmeal.  His body didn’t seem to want to accept that either, and Steve watched as his friend rushed to the toilet to throw it all back up moments later.  Steve quickly abandoned his breakfast as he sat at Bucky’s side.  He cautiously reached out to rub his back, thinking it would bring him comfort, but the other man batted his hand away quickly and glared at him before turning to retch into the toilet once again.

Steve sighed and sat back against the wall with his head in his hands.  He felt useless.  Bucky wasn’t even opening up to him and he figured that was part of the problem.  If he opened up, Sam and him could get him the help he needed to recover.  

Once Bucky was finished throwing up what little breakfast he had attempted to eat, the pair of them sat in the bathroom in silence for about five minutes.

“Read to me please, Steve?”  Bucky croaked as he slowly looked up from his lap.

“Alright, Buck.”  Steve was reluctant to grab the book off of his nightstand.  He’d rather try and discuss what his friend was going through, but maybe Bucky just needed the escape.  Only Bucky knew the full extent of what had happened to him and he didn’t seem ready to open up about his experience.  Steve had to keep reminding himself of that.

Steve sat back down just outside the bathroom, back leaning against the wall as he picked up where he left off and started reading again.  Bucky seemed to relax the moment he started reading out loud, and Steve couldn’t hide his smile.  Maybe that’s all Bucky needed at the moment.  He stopped every so often to check on Bucky, and everything seemed to be okay.  The troubled look that had become Bucky’s default expression had disappeared, replaced by an almost calm expression; like he was smiling.  Was Bucky asleep?  He wasn’t sure, but he kept reading, thankful to bring his friend a bit of peace.  Half an hour later, Bucky stiffened up as screams erupted from his throat.  Steve instantly jumped into action, rushing over to his friend to try and wake him up.

“Bucky!  Wake up!”  Steve yelled, reaching out to shake Bucky awake.  He soon regretted it, because a metal hand found its way to his throat, squeezing as Bucky pinned him up against the wall.  He grasped desperately at the arm holding him against the wall.

“Bucky!  It’s me!  It’s Steve!”  He choked out.  A few seconds later, Bucky’s eyes widened and he quickly let go, scrambling to move away from Steve.  Tears filled his friends eyes and he rubbed at his neck to try and soothe the pain from Bucky’s vice-like grip.  Steve watched as Bucky tried to make himself smaller, shrinking back into the corner of the room.

“I-I’m sorry.   _I’m so sorry_.”  

\---

_ **September 16th, 2016** _

Everything was too bright, too fuzzy, too hazy, and it just didn’t feel right.  The haziness started a few days after Steve had taken him away from that Hydra facility and it wasn't too noticeable or distracting at first.  It made Bucky feel sick.  At first, he thought it was just because of the nightmares, along with the lack of sleep and food.  After his failed attempts at trying to eat solid foods, Steve had him trying these meal replacement shakes.  He didn’t like them very much, but it was the only thing his stomach seemed to accept right now.

The haziness only got worse.  Bucky then thought it was because he had locked himself up in Steve’s bathroom and he needed a change of scenery, maybe even fresh air.  So after inspecting the safe house for weak points and threats, he silently slipped into the living room and curled up in an empty chair like a cat.  He didn’t want to feel like a burden while in the company of Steve and his friend, so he tried to take up the least amount of space as possible, making himself small and staying quiet.  

Bucky often curled up at one end of the couch with Steve on the other, reading the second Lord of the Rings book out loud to him since he had finished the first a few days ago.  He found comfort in wearing Steve’s clothes; usually sweats, and a t-shirt that was a few sizes too big.  This became a routine for them.  The only thing that brought Bucky a small amount of peace at the moment was listening to Steve’s voice.

“This safe house isn't safe, Steve.”  Bucky interrupted with a scowl as Sam prepared to turn in for the night.  

“What do you mean?”  Steve glanced up from the book and turned to look at him.

“I mean, I could get a clear shot of you through the kitchen window from here.  Not only that, the foundation is weak, the walls are too thin.  The back door’s knob is a bit loose and I could easily break in.”

“Alright then,”  Steve said with a sigh.  “Want to help me look for apartments next week?”

Bucky’s gaze shifted over to Sam momentarily, as he seemed somewhat shocked by the proposition.

“You really think that’s a good idea right now, Steve?  I mean, it’s only been a few weeks since you got your boy back and new surroundings are probably overwhelming for him.  I mean, look at him.”

“Um...I’m right here, Wilson.  I don’t need to hold anyone’s hand to cross the street, so I think I can manage whatever new surroundings I’m _forced_ into.  I’m not completely helpless.”  Bucky hissed through gritted teeth.  Sure, he followed Steve into the quinjet, and he allowed himself to be taken to the safe house, but he wasn't really given much of a choice.  It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go anyways.

“Whatever, man.  I’m sorry.  It’s just that I've heard horror stories about psychological trauma and changes can be a bit overwhelming.  I don’t want to see you crash and burn like that.  Just think about it for a bit guys.  Anyways, I’m going to turn in for the night.  Sweet dreams you two.”  Sam said as he gave a defeated sigh, retreating into his own bedroom minutes later.

“Well, I guess I should ask if you’re okay with the idea first, Bucky.  How would you feel if we found an apartment together?”

Bucky tensed up for a moment at the thought of moving again.  It was always stressful, as he remembered the countless times he had a black hood covering his head when his handlers needed to move him from one facility to the next.  He shut his eyes, and Steve seemed to sense his uneasiness almost instantly.  This situation was different.  His head wouldn't be covered by a black hood and he had the freedom to make a decision.  He was doing this with Steve.

“Hey, it’s okay.  You’ll be with me the whole time, okay?”  

Bucky nodded, but it didn’t really make him feel any better.  Sam was right, but he didn’t really want to admit it.  Even though the safe house wasn't necessarily safe, new surroundings and new people overwhelmed him.  He didn’t trust new surroundings and new people, but the thought of Steve being there with him was barely enough to convince him to agree to go looking at apartments.

“Alright, Steve.  I think I can manage new surroundings.”  Bucky grunted.  He didn’t want to talk about it anymore.  He didn’t feel comfortable with it right now, but maybe next week he would feel a bit better about it.

The haziness kept Bucky on edge throughout the week.  He was constantly angry and destructive.  He wanted the aches and chills to stop.  Sometimes he’d throw up the meal replacement shakes Steve had made for him because the dizziness and the rush of emotions was too overwhelming for him to handle.  Nothing felt real anymore; not until he found the razors.  

The first cut into his skin felt like clarity.  The second felt like a breath of fresh air.  The third made him feel like he was in control of himself.  It snapped him back into reality.  Just three cuts along his forearm was enough to take a bit of the edge off.  The sting that lingered where he had cut himself had cleared his mind.  When he was finished, Bucky taped the razor behind a painting and hid his cuts under one of Steve’s hoodies.    
It became routine for a while, but then the cutting just wasn't enough.  He still ached, he still felt constantly angry, depressed and exhausted.  The edginess never wore off and he wanted it to stop.   He just wanted to feel numb again.  Bucky started to try and find other ways to get rid of the jitters and the haziness he felt; guzzling down bottles of over-the-counter medicines and popping pills that did absolutely _nothing_ for him.

Steve almost caught Bucky cutting once.  That made him stop for a few days, as Steve had enough to worry about these days.  He wasn't trying to make him worry even more.  Bucky just felt stressed because he was trying to get him to open up about his time with Hydra and he still didn’t want to talk.  It made him feel sick to even think about what he had gone through, what he could remember.  There were still quite a fair amount of memories he couldn't quite recall.  The only thing Steve knew was that he hated loud noises and hot water.  

Tonight was different; Bucky hadn't been feeling well for most of the day.  His stomach hadn't been agreeing with him and nothing was feeling real.  His nightmares had gotten worse whenever he tried to sleep and he was sure Steve was avoiding sleep for the same reasons, but for once, his friend had turned in for the night.  He had been slumbering peacefully in his room for the past hour and half so this was Bucky’s chance to really get out and stretch his legs.  

Sneaking out was the easy part, but getting back was going to be tricky if either Steve or Sam were awake by the time he returned.  Bucky silently made his way out the back door, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweats as he made his way towards the main road.  He wasn't going anywhere in particular, he just wanted to explore and stretch his legs a bit.  Maybe that would make him feel better.

Bucky kept his head down, shouldering past the few pedestrians still walking the streets at such a late hour.  No one paid him any attention for the first five minutes of his walk, and he wanted to keep it that way.  He never made eye contact with anyone, shuddering every few moments as he braced himself against the chilly autumn breeze.  It wasn’t that the cold bothered him; it didn’t.  It just made him feel even worse.

“Psst!  Hey, dude with the badass metal arm.”  Bucky’s attention instantly shifted to the figure hiding in a dark alley.  He wanted to ignore the man, but his next words made him stop in his tracks.

“You ain’t lookin’ too hot, mister.  I can fix that right up for you.”  

Bucky hesitated before he inched closer to the man in the alley.  He clenched his left hand into a fist, trying to determine if this man was a threat to him.  

“For the right price.”  The man in the alley smiled at him.

“I don’t have any money on me.”  Bucky grunted in return, turning to leave.

“I can tell you’re new to these parts.”   _Not really_ , but the man in the alley would never believe his story; his history with this area.  

“Why don’t I cut you a deal?  I don’t usually do this for just anyone, but you really look like you need somethin’ to make you feel better.  I'm a nice guy, so I’ll give you a free sample of what I’m offering, whatever you need.”

Bucky inched closer, slowly stepping into the alley.  He glanced around at his surroundings.  The windows were mostly boarded up, and what ones weren’t were either broken or not lit.  No one else was around or cared to look in their general direction, and traffic was minimal.  If he was in any danger, there would be no witnesses if he had to defend himself.  He could take out this man in seconds, but his offer seemed promising.  He would come back as long as the man in the alley had something that could take away the pain, the haziness and the jitters.

“Alright, what d’you got, then?”  Bucky croaked.

“Well lets step into my office and I’ll see what I can find.”  The man’s smile widened into a grin as he lead Bucky further into the alley.  It wasn't even an office really; just a small corner of dampness and filth that hadn't seen the light of day since the 40’s.

Bucky almost regretted his decision to follow this man as their surroundings were questionable, but his thoughts of turning back were interrupted by a question.

“What’s your name, mister?”

“You can call me Soldier.  What should I call you?”  Bucky snapped back.  He wasn’t willing to give his name to some stranger he had met in an alley his name.  He didn’t even know what exactly he was offering, he just knew he said it was something to make him feel better.

“You can call me Travis.  So I’m guessing you served then?  Is that how you got that arm?  I haven’t seen anythin’ like it.”

“Yeah, something like that.”  Bucky shoved his left hand back into his pocket, not wanting to draw attention to the advanced technology Hydra had given him to make him into a weapon.  “Anyways, what d’you got then, Travis?”

“What’cha need, Soldier?”

“I need somethin’ to take away the pain and these jitters I’m feelin’.  I don’t like it; just somethin’ to help me relax, I guess.”  Bucky shrunk in on himself, shoulders hunched in the shadows as he glanced around uneasily.

“Ah, your meds run out?  Bet you’re goin’ through some withdrawals.  You probably got some sort of PTSD or somethin’ from the war n’ that’s where those jitters are comin’ from.  I got some strong shit for you then that’ll make you feel real good.”  Travis said with a smile, digging through his pockets quickly.

Travis finally dug out three separate orange bottles and opened them up.  He took one pill out of each bottle and handed them over.  Bucky gladly took them, popping them into his mouth as quickly as he could, swallowing them down without any hesitation or struggle.

“Alright.  Those three are your freebies.  One for pain, one for anxiety and one to just make you fuckin’ relax.  They might take a bit to kick in but they’ll make you feel so good, man.”  

Bucky just nodded his response and leaned back against the cold brick wall of the alley.  He started to wonder when the pills would kick in when Travis interrupted his thoughts.

“Hey, you wanna smoke?”  Bucky shook his head.  He couldn't go home smelling like smoke; Steve would know he snuck out.

“No, thanks.  Where can I find you if I want more of those pills?”

“This is my block.  Just circle around a few times and I’ll find you, Soldier.”  

Bucky nodded his response before thanking Travis again and left the alley with his hands in his pockets.  He almost wanted to wander around for a bit longer, but as he started walking in the general direction of the safe house, he started feeling the effects of the pills he took.  He was starting to feel exhausted, tired and worn out, but the pain and the jitters were gone.  He dragged his feet the rest of the way to the safe house, quietly sneaking back in through the back entrance and up to Steve’s bathroom.

The tub was Bucky’s safe zone.  It relaxed him; it felt like the small chamber that his handlers had put him in for decades.  It was a small bit of comfort, and he found himself drifting off in that small space.  It felt like heaven.  For once the haze was gone.  His mind was clear and the aches were gone.  It was a calming feeling as he slept, and it was peaceful.

That all changed when a familiar, aged face faded into his dreams.  The suit and tie were sharp as always, tailored to suit him in such a way that it demanded authority and power.  The thinning grayish-strawberry blond hair and gentle, blue eyes was enough to make his blood boil and bile churn in his stomach.

_“Bring him in.”  Pierce’s voice was soft as he turned to face The Asset._

_The Soldier stared ahead of him, eyes fixed on the door as they dragged a man with blond hair and blue eyes into the room.  He was bound in chains, emaciated and frail-looking.  It reminded him of someone, and it caused a knot to quickly form in his throat.  Their eyes met and The Asset’s eyes widened._

_Steve._

_This man looked like Steve.  Seeing him kneeling in front of him like that, sickly but defiant, fighting even when he was on the losing end gave him chills.  It made him feel sick.  He didn’t want to see this man._

_“Kill him.”_

_The Soldier could feel the color draining from his face as he heard the order escaping Pierce’s lips._

_“No.”  He choked out.  He forced the words out of his mouth faster than he could really think about it.  It was an automatic reflex.  He wanted to protect this man rather than harm him, but he kept himself rooted to the spot even though he felt like fighting against his handlers to save him._

_“This is for the greater good, Soldier.”  Pierce turned to The Soldier, his voice still even, soft and kind._

_The Asset couldn't look away from the blond man.  All he could see was Steve, but he couldn't bear to say his name.  Saying his name made it real.  He clenched his fists, licking his lips as he tried to ignore Pierce._

_“He has been convicted of war crimes.  He is a criminal trying to steal from us; trying to take away our freedoms.  Justice needs to be served.  Kill him, Soldier.”_

_“No.”_

_“Alright then, I’ll do it myself.”  Pierce sighed as he pulled a gun off of a table, aimed it at the blond haired man and fired._

_The Soldier watched as the blond’s body went limp and dropped to the floor, blood pooling around the body.  He watched as the light left his eyes and the knot in his throat tightened._

_“Steve…”  The Soldier whispered before he threw up._

Bucky bolted awake when he felt fingers squeezing his shoulder and he froze up, eyes widening as he took in his surroundings and quickly shoved the hand away.  He wanted to cry but the tears didn’t come.  He slowly brought his gaze over to Steve, and he suddenly wanted him to be closer.  He wanted to protect Steve even though he didn’t need protecting, but his eyes widened in fear when he saw Pierce right behind him with a gun in his hand, aiming it at Steve’s head.

“Steve…”  Bucky whispered, voice shaking and chest heaving as he reached out for his friend.

“What’s wrong, Bucky?”

He didn’t respond at first; he just felt the need to protect Steve.  His eyes never left the image of Pierce standing right behind Steve and he reached an arm out for Steve.  He needed to know that Steve was real.  He needed that comfort.

“Pierce…”  Bucky managed to choke out.

“He’s dead, Buck.”  Steve’s words weren't very reassuring, and he blinked a few times to try to erase the image of Pierce from his vision.  It wasn't working, but he soon felt Steve take his right hand, squeezing gently.   _This was real._  

Steve was real and Pierce wasn't.  Pierce was dead, but the image couldn't be erased from his mind.  He needed to protect Steve.  All he could see was the skinny, sickly blond man that had been shot in front of him.  More memories flashed before his eyes of the countless others that were brought in front of him, the numerous lives he took of men with blond hair and blue eyes that looked just like Steve.  It left a sour taste in his mouth.

“He’s here…”  Bucky choked back his tears, voice wavering as he struggled to look away from the image of Pierce standing behind Steve.  He felt his friend squeezing his hand again, and it brought him a small ounce of comfort.  

“Mind if I get in, Bucky?”  Steve nodded towards the tub, forcing a small smile.  Bucky quickly tucked his feet closer to him, inviting him in.

Steve climbed in, his hand never letting go of Bucky’s and both of them stayed quiet for some time.  Bucky finally managed to look away from the image of Pierce, just wanting it to be gone.  The warmth of his friend’s hand brought him comfort, and he tried to fight the urge to bring him closer to protect him.  It was safe here.  The silence between the two calmed him and set his mind at ease.

“It’s okay, Bucky.  I’m here now.  Care to tell me what your nightmare was about?”

Bucky shook his head, tugging at Steve’s hand gently to bring him just a tiny bit closer, until their feet touched.  He didn’t want to talk about losing count of how many men he’d killed that looked like Steve.  He didn’t want to relive it, because he was afraid he’d put Steve in danger.  He needed to protect him.

Neither man slept for the rest of the night.  They didn’t say much, but Steve never let go of his hand.  Bucky didn’t want him to.  The touch was grounding and it’s what he needed at the moment.  Maybe they both needed it.

\---

_ **September 20th, 2016** _

_Tap.  Tap. Tap. Thump. Tap thump._

Bucky had been drumming his fingers on every hard surface within reach for the past few days, his right hand creating the muted thumps and his left making the sharper, more dominant taps.  His fingers seemed to dance across the hard surfaces to their own beat.  Sometimes the thumps were more staccato, and other times it almost seemed fluid.  The noises came in different tones; occasionally they were nearly silent, and sometimes they were loud.

Steve figured that Bucky’s finger drumming was the only thing that had kept his listless demeanor at bay, and that was fine with him as long as it helped.  No matter how irritating the finger-drumming had gotten, neither Sam nor Steve asked him to stop.  Steve figured Bucky drummed his fingers to distract himself from his own thoughts, so he wasn't going to ask about what had happened to his friend when he was under Hydra’s control.  He understood now that it was a very sore topic and it would take time for Bucky to open up, but he still couldn't help but feel useless when it came to Bucky’s problems.

Bucky wasn't looking too great today; his face had absolutely no color to it and his features looked gaunt and lifeless.  There were moments where he would twitch or shiver and he would quickly try to mask it by shifting in his seat or fix his hair.  He was getting sick more often, rushing to the bathroom to throw up the meal replacement shakes nearly every time he swallowed.  Steve figured he was getting sick due to his anxiety and his repressed memories.  Steve wasn't sure what to do to help his friend.

Natasha had decided to stop by that afternoon to check up on them on her down time.  Steve caught her up on Bucky’s progress as much as he could and now the four of them were eating lunch and watching a movie.  Bucky wasn't really paying attention to what they were watching, but continued to drum his fingers against the armrests of the chair.  

“How long has he been doing that, Steve?”  Nat asked quietly as her gaze shifted away from the television and turned to Bucky.

Steve shrugged one shoulder lazily, not looking away from the movie.  

“He started a few days ago.  It seems to keep him calm so we don’t stop him.”

“You ever notice that he’s tapping his fingers to the same tempo as the music that’s playing on tv?  I’m sure if you guys give him a keyboard or something, he’d probably play you a tune.”

“What?  Like the piano?”

“Well he’s certainly not going to type up a report on the flaws in the American Education System.”

Steve glanced at Nat.  An amused chuckle escaped his lips before he glanced over at Bucky and raised an eyebrow.  So Bucky knew how to play the piano.  That was different.

“He never knew how to play the piano before.”

“Learning piano was probably required for one of his missions.  That part of his programming must have stuck with him.”

Steve nodded and pressed his lips together in a tight line.  Bucky had never mentioned that he knew how to play the piano, or that he had wanted a piano.  In fact, Bucky never really voiced his wants and needs.  He never said if he was hungry, thirsty, tired, or bored and this worried Steve.

“Nat, can we talk?”  Steve asked as he nodded towards the bedroom.  

“Didn't think I was your type, Steve.”  Nat said with a smirk before getting up out of her chair.

Steve followed suit, letting her follow him into his bedroom.  As soon as he shut the door, he ran his fingers through his hair and started pacing the room.  His mind was racing.

“What’s up, Cap?”

“I’m worried about Bucky.”

“Of course you are.  He was brainwashed and manipulated by Hydra for seventy years, and he’s still recovering, Steve.  He’s not going to snap back to his chipper ol’ self in three weeks.  Something like that will change a man, Steve, and it’s going to take time.  He’s probably never going to fully recover.  I didn’t, and look how I turned out.”  Nat stated as she crossed her arms, leaning back against the door frame.

“I know, Nat.”

“Really?  You _know_?  You think you know what it’s like to be brainwashed and molded into the perfect weapon?  There’s a reason he’s not opening up to anyone, Steve.  He went through _hell_.”  Her voice softened as she pushed herself off the door frame slowly.  

Steve sighed and shook his head, collapsing down onto his bed as he put his head in his hands.  He wasn't trying to bring the old Bucky back; he was just trying to understand and help his friend.  The problem was that Bucky wasn't opening up about anything.

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, tell that to Bucky, not me.”  There was a gentleness in Nat’s voice as she approached Steve, sitting down next to him on the bed.

“Now what’s this about, Steve?”

“I want to help Bucky but I don’t know how.  There’s no communication.  He didn’t tell me he played piano.  He won’t tell me what he wants or needs, so it’s difficult for me to help him.  I can’t cope with the silence he’s giving me.”

“Well, Bucky probably wasn't allowed to voice what he wanted or needed at Hydra and he’s not exactly used to the freedoms he has now.  He’s going to have to relearn everything and it’s going to be a slow process.  He can take care of himself for the most part, but there’s things that he’s not aware of that once came naturally to him that are now foreign.  He needs something to call his own.  That’s where you can help him, Steve.”

“And how exactly do I do that?”  Steve said, meeting Natasha’s gaze.

“Give him a notebook to write in.  Tell him to write down the things he hates, and the things he loves.  Ask him to try and express what he wants or needs through writing.  You don’t have to look at what he writes.  It’s just for him, something to call his own, to express himself.  I think that’s something he might need right now.”

Steve felt relieved at Natasha’s suggestion.  Getting Bucky to write in a notebook seemed like a simple task.  It would definitely relieve some of his stress and worries.

“Eventually he might move onto different ways of expressing himself.  It really depends on how much he progresses over time.  He could go from writing what he wants and needs in that notebook and not showing anyone, to voicing his wants and needs aloud in the blink of an eye, or it could take a few more steps than that.  Sticky notes could be a great way for Bucky to express himself out in the open once he feels comfortable with that sort of freedom.”

Steve nodded.  He was finally starting to understand how much work he still had to do.  It wasn't going to be easy, and Bucky wasn't going to improve overnight.  It was going to be a learning process for the both of them.

“And let him stretch his legs a bit.  He’s probably tired of being cooped up in this house and needs some fresh air.  You need to establish trust with him and keeping him locked up and hidden away isn't helping.  Let him discover this new century with fresh eyes.”

Nat made a good point and Steve nodded in agreement.  He did need to give Bucky a bit of freedom, but he could feel the worry building up in the pit of his stomach.  What if Bucky didn’t return if he let him go out on his own?  He bit his lip and looked away for a moment before he forced a smile.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You’re welcome, Steve.  I should get going, though.  You think you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah.  I’ll call you if something happens.”

The two exchanged a smile before Natasha stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Steve to mull things over and stew in his mind.  He slouched over for a few moments, elbows resting on his knees as he took a few minutes to sort out his thoughts.  Natasha was probably right in trying to establish trust with Bucky again.  Sam and him were all Bucky had, and the only person Bucky was remotely familiar with was Steve.  He had a history with Steve, and he did remember bits and pieces of their past if Steve started talking about something they both did together.  It was just a matter of getting Bucky to open up.  Steve was his only constant, his only grounding force to this century.

Steve sighed as he stood up and searched through his drawers for an empty notebook, finally finding one buried in his nightstand drawer.  He’d bought the notebook months ago because the small one he was using now was nearly filled with topics he needed to catch up on, but Sam was great at reminding him on what he still needed to watch, listen to, or read.  He now found himself pulling his little notebook out far less these days and he was thankful for that.  

Steve’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard a knock on his bedroom door.  

“Come in.”

Steve smiled when Bucky stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.  He invited him to sit down next to him on the bed and he saw the hesitant look in Bucky’s eyes.  He inched closer before slowly lowering himself down onto the edge of the bed.

“Hey, Buck.  Something wrong?”

Bucky quickly shook his head, wringing his hands together nervously for a few moments.  Steve wasn't buying it, but he had to hold himself back from pulling the other man close to comfort him, as touching was still off limits unless Bucky initiated it.  Instead, he forced a small smile and pretended that everything was going to be okay.  He had to keep telling himself that, even though he couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel just yet.

“Well how about we go out for shakes in a few minutes, and didn’t Natasha say something about you playing piano?”

Bucky nodded his response, not even looking up from his lap to make eye contact with Steve.

“Would you like a piano?”

It took a few minutes for Bucky to respond to the question, but Steve couldn't hold back his smile when Bucky nodded.

“Yeah, Steve.”  He said with the faintest smile.  

Bucky had been regressing over the past few days, so Bucky’s silence was expected.  Sam said there would be times where he would make great strides forward, then all of a sudden it’d seem like he was back at square one with his recovery.  It was discouraging, really.  Bucky barely talked to him, and getting him to even speak two words to him was a miracle most days.  There were a few instances where they’d almost had a conversation.  

“Oh, um...I want you to have this, Buck.”  Steve spoke hesitantly as he quickly handed over the empty notebook he had kept in his lap, biting down on his lip.  He wasn't sure how to explain to his friend what he wanted him to do with it, but he’d try his best.

“It’s for when you’re having trouble expressing yourself.  I don’t know what you’re thinking, what’s going on in your mind but you just write down whatever you feel like in that notebook.  You want something?  Write it down.  You like or you hate something?  Go ahead and fill pages of that book with things you like and dislike.”  

Steve paused, looking away from Bucky for a moment to calm his racing mind.  The atmosphere in the room seemed tense, and he was feeling anxious.  He wanted Bucky to start writing in that notebook right now, because then he would at least be comforted by the fact that what Bucky was thinking and writing down were his own thoughts.  

“I won’t read what you write unless you want me to, Buck, but if you ever want to talk about something, I’m here, okay?  If you want something, you can tell me.  I won’t tell anyone else unless you want me to.”  Steve said after noticing the hesitant look in Bucky’s eyes.  

The tension in the room dissipated as soon as the corners of Bucky’s lips tugged into a weak smile.  It was _something_.  It was progress, acceptance.  Steve shifted on the bed momentarily before he stood up.

“Alright, Buck.  Wanna head out for shakes, then?”

Steve took that as a yes when his friend joined him at his side, setting the empty notebook on the bed before the two of them left the room.  He only stopped to tell Sam that they were going out for shakes before the two men walked out.  Steve made sure that Bucky stayed at his side as they walked a few blocks down to the closest ice cream parlor for shakes.  The neighborhood was familiar to the both of them.  These were their old stomping grounds, and as soon as the pair of them stepped up to the store front with “Brooklyn Farmacy & Soda Fountain” printed across the windows in bold, white letters, Steve glanced at Bucky.

“Didn't I used to get your medicines here?”

Steve grinned at Bucky’s question, fighting the urge to pull him into his arms for a hug.  This was the first time Bucky didn’t have to be prompted to share a memory.

“Yeah, Buck.  I guess it got changed into a Soda Fountain, but that’s okay.  Come on.”  Steve said as he motioned for Bucky to follow him into the shop.

The two of them were lead to a small table as soon as they entered the small shop and were quickly presented with menus.  Steve noticed the uneasy look in Bucky’s eyes as soon as they sat down, his eyes darting around to assess the danger.  He bit his lip and started looking over the menu silently for a moment before Bucky spoke up again.

“Didn't Mr. Longo run this place?”

“Yeah.  Think you two were on a first name basis because I was sick so often.”  Steve said as he skimmed over the menu again.

“Oh.  Yeah, I remember now.  Ed, right?”  Bucky grunted, finally looking down at his menu.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“He was nice.  He’d sometimes throw in a few candies for free.  He said that we were probably the ones that kept him in business for so long.”  

Steve laughed softly at that bit of information, setting his menu down just as Bucky had done the same.  A waitress quickly came over to their table to take their orders with a friendly smile.  Bucky had decided on a chocolate egg cream and Steve ordered a strawberry shake, and once the waitress left with their orders, they both sat back and tried to relax.  Bucky started drumming his fingers on the table and Steve smiled.

“What are you playing?”

“Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Minor.”  Bucky grunted.

“Oh…”  Steve’s heard about Rachmaninoff.  He’s heard some of the music and knows some of the history about it.  He remembered that particular piece had been played at a front in World War II, in support for the Soviet military forces fighting in the war.

“Why that song?”  Steve questioned as the both of them straightened up in their seats when the waitress came back with their drinks.  

Steve noticed that Bucky gave the server a nervous look before his eyes fell on the drink she had set in front of him and he forced a smile as if to tell his friend that everything was okay.  He leaned over to take a sip of his strawberry shake, savoring the sweetness before he swallowed it down, still keeping an eye on his friend.

“Not sure.”  Bucky whispered, eyes averting away from Steve as he brought his mug closer, sucking the liquid down with a straw slowly.  

Steve waited for a few silent moments to see if Bucky could stomach the new drink.  He seemed to be keeping everything down so far and even dared to take another sip before Steve decided to pay attention to his own shake.  The two men sipped their drinks in comfortable silence, save for Bucky’s finger-drumming and constant shifting in his seat, like he was feeling anxious about something.  

“How are you feeling, Buck?”

“O-okay, I guess…”  Bucky stuttered before taking a large sip of his drink to try and hide whatever he was feeling.  

“D’you wanna get out of here?”  

Bucky nodded his response, and Steve quickly flagged over their waitress so he could pay for their drinks and leave.  They both took the last few sips of their drink as the waitress left to fetch their check and Steve forced a smile to hide his concern.  He saw the nervousness in Bucky’s eyes.  He wasn't sure if he was feeling anxious because of the people in the building, or because he thought the area wasn't safe.

“Hey, we’re okay.  If anything happens, I’ll be by your side, okay?”

Bucky nodded his response and swallowed hard as the waitress presented them with their check.  Steve dug through his wallet for the correct amount of bills, plus a small tip before he motioned for Bucky to follow him out.  Once they were out in the open, his friend seemed to loosen up again, save for the nervous glances over his shoulder and inching closer to Steve with every step.

“Do you wanna go back to the house, Buck?”  Steve asked as he glanced over at Bucky, who quickly shook his head.  

“Alright, well we’re almost there.  Just another block, okay?”

Steve slowly reached his left hand out to Bucky, fingers gently circling his wrist and squeezing as they walked.  He felt the other man start to tug his hand away, but then went limp to allow Steve to keep a gentle hold on his arm.  They walked quietly, keeping an even pace with each other before Steve piped up.

“So how was the egg cream?  I've never had one of those.”

“It was good.  Better than the meal replacement shakes.”

Steve smiled, rubbing small circles over Bucky’s palm with his thumb slowly as they approached the antique piano store.  The touch seemed to calm him down and Steve’s smile soon turned into a grin.  This was the second time Bucky allowed Steve to touch him, and it was progress.  He was sure the touch brought the other man a bit of comfort, something the blond was glad to give him.  The pair of them only parted when they stepped into the shop.

“Have at it, Buck.  Pick whatever one you like.”  Steve’s grin never faltered as he carefully nudged Bucky towards a few pianos.  

Bucky quickly left his side to check out the different pianos, and Steve’s eyes wandered over the instruments that clearly had a history before he decided to join his friend a few minutes later.  The two men wandered around the store for a while before an associate approached them asking them if they needed help.

“Hi, my name is Anne!  Is there anything specific you two are looking for today?”

“Hi Anne,”  Steve said with a smile, keeping an eye on Bucky who had wandered over to a baby grand a few feet away.  “Well, um, I’m not exactly sure what my friend here is looking for.  I’m sure he’ll tell me when he finds a piano he likes, but thanks.  I’m Steve, by the way, and that’s Bucky.”

Steve nodded towards Bucky, who had now made his way towards a few upright pianos.  He listened to the soft, melodic tune coming out of one of the uprights his friend was playing and this was the first time he looked relaxed.   He wasn't twitchy or constantly looking over his shoulder; he wasn't shrinking in on himself like he did when placed in an unfamiliar setting.

“Do you have any preferences about the style of piano?”

“I kind of want something that’s a bit easier to transport.  Bucky and I are thinking of moving to an apartment and whatever piano we end up buying would  have to be easy to transport.”  Steve said as he shoved his hands in his pockets, turning his attention back to Anne.

“Well, if you’re looking to move to an apartment in New York City, I wouldn't suggest getting anything larger than an upright unless you really don’t mind a piano taking up most of your floor space.  Spinet’s are probably the most compact piano we sell here, but you can’t go wrong with an upright.”

“Thanks, Anne.  I’ll let you know if we find anything.”  Steve said with a smile before turning his attention to Bucky, who was pounding away at the ivories of a rather beautiful looking upright.  Anne took this as her cue to leave the two alone for a while so they could make a decision.

“Hey, Buck.  How’re you feelin’?  You see any pianos you like?”

“I like this one.”  Bucky nodded to the one he was playing.  It had an old Victorian design to it, and the fall board had “Steinway & Sons” printed across the dark wood in curly gold lettering.  It was a beautiful piano, one Steve wouldn't mind buying if that’s what Bucky wanted.

“I played one of these when I went undercover at the Bolshoi Theatre,”  Bucky mumbled and paused his playing for a moment, looking up at Steve.  “Natalia was there.”

“She was?  I’ll have to talk to her about that.  So you want this one?”  Bucky nodded his response and Steve quickly flagged Anne down so he could buy the piano.  

“Have you made a decision?”

“I think we have, Anne.  We’d like this one.”

“Great choice!  This Steinway & Sons was built in Germany in 1868.  This one is very rare as square pianos were popular in the mid 19th century.  I've got a brochure on this particular piano back in my office, if you’d both like to follow me.”  

Anne started to lead Steve back to her office, but he stopped, glancing back at Bucky.  He hadn't stepped away from the piano just yet, and continued tickling the ivories like he wasn't interested in the whole transaction process of filling out paperwork and writing checks.  

“D’you wanna stay and play a bit more, Buck?”  Bucky nodded, never looking away from his fingers dancing across the keyboard.

Steve shrugged one shoulder and smiled before he turned back around and followed Anne back into her office to buy the piano.  He trusted Bucky alone in the shop as he seemed pretty immersed in his piano playing.  Besides, Bucky could take care of himself.  Steve was just afraid that Hydra would find him and take him back, so Steve tried to make the process of buying the piano quick.

The negotiation process was the only obstacle that took a bit of time.  The asking price for the piano Bucky wanted was close to twenty thousand dollars, but Steve managed to knock it down to seventeen thousand.  The price would leave a slightly noticeable dent in his bank account, but maybe the piano would help Bucky with his problems, so price wasn't really an issue.  After he had written the check and signed it over to Anne, she asked him about when he’d like it delivered.  He chose next day delivery, and once everything was set in stone, he gathered up his papers and left the office with a smile on his face.

Bucky seemed to almost be in better spirits when they started walking back to the house, save for him reaching for Steve’s arm.  He felt the brunet squeeze gently as the fingers of his flesh hand circled his wrist, and the nervous glances and shrinking in on himself seemed to vanish.  

Once they approached the house, Bucky rushed inside and locked himself in Steve’s bathroom.  He usually locked himself away when he was feeling anxious about something, or sick, and that was always his way of telling everyone that he wanted to be left alone.  So Steve settled down on the couch and decided to let Sam catch him up on a few movies until it was time for them to turn in for the night.

\---

_ **September 27th, 2016** _

It was so easy to steal from Steve.  Bucky started noticing Steve’s daily routine once he started trusting Bucky and giving him more responsibilities around the house.  Every morning around five, Sam and Steve would leave the house to go on their morning runs, and would come back about an hour later for breakfast, where Bucky was given the task of trying to make something for them to eat.

Pancakes were a complete disaster the first day Bucky attempted to make them one morning upon Steve’s request, so everyone settled for cold cereal and fruit.  Scrambled eggs were no better the first few times around.  It honestly shouldn't have been that difficult, but his thoughts were distracting him and the more he went without any sort of drugs in his system, the worse he felt.  At least Sam and Steve were getting used to the smell of burnt toast.   

Bucky had gotten a routine down as soon as the two left for their morning run.  He would shower, shave, then to tide himself over for a few hours, he would drag a razor blade across his wrist until he felt satisfied.  The cuts usually weren't deep enough to draw a lot of blood, but on particularly hard days, he would press the small blade down against his skin just a bit harder.  The pain soothed him, reminded him that this was real.  

The one positive thing about having a bastardized version of the supersoldier serum coursing through his veins was that he could heal quickly; maybe not as quickly as Steve could, but the cuts he had made in his skin would be faded by the end of the day.  Once he was finished, he would clean himself up and wait for the bleeding to stop before he moved to the kitchen.

Before Bucky started breakfast every morning, he would pull a few bills out of Steve’s wallet while both men were out running.  It was usually small bills, like a few ones or a five, but sometimes he felt adventurous and took a bit more.  Steve had never noticed, and if he had, he never said anything.  Bucky would hide the bills in the piano, knowing Steve would never look there before shuffling into the kitchen to start breakfast.  

This morning was his time to get out and stretch his legs.  He wanted to pay a visit to Travis again, as the pills that he had offered Bucky before had allowed him to relax and not remember the pain of what he had been through.  He had collected enough bills that he could afford more than just a few pills, and it would last him a while.  He figured that he’d be back in time before Steve and Sam returned for their run so he rushed out the door as soon as he had the stolen stack of bills stuffed in the pocket of Steve’s sweats.  

The fresh air hitting Bucky’s face felt refreshing, and the wind blowing through his hair sent chills down his spine.  Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched over to make himself smaller.  His eyes shifted down every alley as he weaved around small groups of pedestrians, trying his hardest to ignore everyone’s gaze.  He wasn't near Travis’ block yet, but he wanted to take precautions.  The fear of being followed or watched still loomed over him like a nightmare.

Once Bucky reached the right block, it only took him five minutes for him to find Travis.  

“Hey man, haven’t seen you in a while.  Still lookin’ for a fix?”  Travis mumbled as soon as Bucky caught sight of the other man and approached him.  He nodded before his eyes darted around his surroundings.  

“Alright, lets step back into my office then, Soldier.”  Travis said with a sly smile as he slipped back into the safety of the dark alley.  Bucky followed cautiously, shuffling slowly into the back alley, eyes staying low.

“What’re you lookin’ for today?  The same thing?  ‘Cause I got plenty o’ that.”

Bucky nodded his response, biting down on his lip nervously as he shot a quick glance behind him.  He knew he shouldn't do this; he knew what the medications did to him last time, but he couldn't think clearly and everything ached.  He could live with having a few nightmares as long as it took away the pain.

“How much you want?”

Bucky shrugged, pulling out the wad of bills he had stolen from Steve’s wallet over the past few weeks.  

“How much’ll this get me?”  Bucky croaked as he handed over the bills, watching silently as Travis counted out the money.

“I’ll give you fifteen of each, how’s that sound?  It’s a great deal, really.  I wouldn't do this for just anyone, but you get a military discount.”  Travis was already filling up three different baggies with pills as he spoke, not giving Bucky much of an option to try and negotiate if he really wanted to.  

Bucky felt a bit anxious about this.  He _wanted_ this.  He’d waited for this moment; he waited for the moment to feel _good_ again, to feel numb again.  He wanted to temporarily forget the horrible memories that plagued him right after he took the pills, even if it meant remembering them ten times worse in his nightmares.  He could live with that.

As soon as Travis handed the baggies over, Bucky popped the three different pills in his mouth and swallowed before pocketing the rest.  He’d need to make this one last, because he couldn't keep stealing from Steve.  No matter how much he felt that he needed the pills, he knew he couldn't keep doing this; at least not this way.  He was eventually going to have to find other ways to get money for his drugs.  

“Y’wanna hang for a bit, maybe have a smoke?”  Bucky quickly shook his head when offered a cigarette, but decided to stick around a bit.  He figured he had enough time to waste before he had to go back to the house to make breakfast.  

“I dunno anythin’ about you.  What do you do for a living?”  Travis asked.   _Kill people._

“I play piano.”  Bucky grunted as he shrugged a shoulder.  He wasn't great at small-talk, but Travis was trying to be friendly and he felt that he needed to make more friends.  “What about you?”

“All I got is this, man.  ‘s the only thing that pays the bills right now.  What’d you do in the military?”

“I was a sniper.”  Bucky grunted, keeping his head down.  He shoved his hands back into his pockets, unable to make eye contact with Travis  Instead, he kept checking his surroundings to make sure there weren't any weak points in the alley.  His surroundings were just a bit different from the alley where he first met Travis.  The building to his left was occupied, but most of the curtains were drawn so no one had witnessed their transaction.  The building to the right was abandoned, but the alley itself looked clean.  

“You okay man?  You’re not lookin’ too good.You should probably get going.  I don’t want you passin’ out on me because of the meds.  You got a place to crash, right?”  Bucky nodded quickly.

“Alright, well ‘s good doin’ business with you again, Soldier.”  Travis said with a wide grin and Bucky grunted his thanks before he turned to leave.  

Calmness washed over Bucky as he started walking back to the safe house.  He felt safe in his own skin, like what happened to him wasn't real.  His past with Hydra felt like a dream, and he felt elated, yet he couldn't seem to muster a smile to express his happiness.  That feeling was still foreign to him.  

The one feeling that wasn't foreign to him was fear, and he would have felt that as soon as he entered the house if the medications he took didn’t make him feel so relaxed.  So when he walked back into the safe house through the back, only to come face to face with an angry Steve Rogers, he _really didn’t care_.

“Where the hell were you, Bucky?”  Steve’s voice was sharp, hands clenched into fists, but he didn’t yell.  

Bucky shrugged, not making eye contact with Steve as he slipped past the other man to get back into his safe area.  

“Answer me, Bucky!”  Steve growled.

_It was an order_.  Bucky opened his mouth to obey, to answer Steve, but quickly bit his tongue and moved forward, heading back towards Steve’s bathroom.  

“Please.”  Steve finished.

“I needed some fresh air.”  Bucky finally answered as he walked into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it before Steve could follow him inside.  He just wanted to be alone.  He didn’t want Steve to see him like this.

“Why didn’t you leave a note?  I was just about to go out looking for you!  I was so scared that something had happened, Bucky!”  

Bucky didn’t answer.  He didn’t care.  He just wanted to sleep.  The tub was Bucky’s safe place; it felt familiar, so as soon as he climbed in and curled up, he fell asleep.  His mind was a blank void for the first few minutes he slept, and it was relaxing.  There were no terrible memories plaguing him, no nightmares to wake him up and everything felt peaceful.  Then the scenery changed.

_Bucky was walking home from his job at the docks, carrying his empty lunch pail back to his apartment and enjoying what was left of the sunlight that still peaked over the horizon.  It had been a long day, far longer than normal but they were backed up and shorthanded.  He was exhausted and every bone in his body ached, so he was looking forward to taking a shower._

_Bucky’s apartment was empty when he entered, and he expected it to be.  He lived with Steve, but for the past week, his best friend had been stuck in the hospital coughing up a lung and running a high fever.  So as soon as Bucky finished cleaning himself up, he was out the door, headed straight for Brooklyn Hospital Center._

_The hospital was as busy as ever, even at this late hour.  Bucky greeted the secretary at the front desk, giving her a friendly nod before stepping into the elevator.  Usually he’d stop at the front desk to flirt a bit, but he just didn’t have the energy for that, so he skipped his usual routine and headed straight for Steve’s room.  Bucky stopped dead in his tracks just outside his friend’s hospital room when he heard a man speaking._

_“... he be in sins they shall be forgiven him; we implore Thee, our Redeemer, to cure by the grace of the Holy Spirit the ailments of this sick person and heal his wounds, forgive his sins, drive from him all pains of mind and body and in Thy mercy restore him to full health within and without, that being cured by the help of Thy mercy he may return to--”_

_Bucky stormed into Steve’s hospital room, pure, white hot rage coursing through his veins as he approached the priest reading Steve his last rites.  One of their neighbors and his own mother stood in the corner as a witness, but Bucky was too enraged to look away from the priest._

_“Get out!”  Bucky glared, standing toe-to-toe with the priest, face inches away from the other man’s.  He pointed towards the door, not looking away from the man he had interrupted._

_“Excuse me, young man but you’re being impolite!  Where are your manners?  You should never interrupt a servant of the Lord while he is doing God’s work!”_

_“Bucky, sit down and behave!”  his mother hissed.  Bucky bit his cheek and ignored his mother’s orders, never looking away from the priest._

_“I already told you to get out!”  Bucky said through gritted teeth, face red with anger.  He never lowered his arm, still pointing it at the exit door.  “Stevie’s not dyin’ today.  He ain’t dyin’ ‘til I say so.”_

_Bucky’s entire body was shaking and tears were threatening to spill.  Steve wasn't going to die.  He had to keep telling himself that.  Steve was stronger than that; he wouldn't just give up because of a fever._

_“Get out.”  Bucky hissed, ignoring his mother who now stood at his side.  She tried to comfort him by placing a hand on his shoulder, as if signifying that this was the end.  It wasn't.  Bucky wasn't going to let this be the end of the line._

_The priest finally left minutes later and Bucky collapsed in his usual chair right next to Steve.  That was when he finally got a good look at his friend.  He was sleeping; his breathing was shallow, coming out in short wheezes and he was as pale as a ghost.  He couldn't even pay attention to his mom and his neighbor; he just kept his eyes on Steve._

_“I need to be alone with Steve for a bit.”  Bucky managed to whisper._

_The two women nodded respectfully left the room minutes later and Bucky sighed, hunching over Steve’s hospital bed._

_“You’re gonna make it through this, alright buddy?  Can ya promise me that?”  Bucky mumbled as he took one of Steve’s hands in his.  He was cold to the touch, and Bucky quickly sandwiched Steve’s hand in his own to try and warm him up a bit._

_“I saw Betty today during my lunch break.  She keeps askin’ me how you’re doing.  I keep tellin’ her you’re gonna pull through this.  You better, Stevie, because if you don’t, I dunno what I’m gonna do with myself.”_

_A knot was forming in Bucky’s throat now, and he tried to swallow down his sobs.  He wiped away a few tears as quickly as he could before squeezing Steve’s hand gently.  He remembered when he busted up that hand in a fight with some bully on the schoolyard five years ago.  Some of his fingers hadn't healed up quite right but Steve never had any trouble with that hand._

_“Work was tough.  We were shorthanded today.  Bobby called in ‘cause his wife went into labor a bit early and Jerry’s out til next week ‘cause of his busted up arm.  He’s just about as accident-prone as you are.  You’d laugh at all the stories he has.  Bet you two would make great friends.”_

_Bucky talked to Steve until the nurses came to tell him that visiting hours were over in five minutes.  He swallowed hard; he didn’t want to leave, because what if this really was Steve’s last day on earth?  He didn’t want to think about it.  Steve always had close calls, but this just seemed worse.  Bucky didn’t even want to think about the hospital bill._

_“Alright Stevie.  You know what time it is.  The nurses are gonna kick me out in a few minutes, but you hang in there, okay?  I know you can, ‘cause you’re the strongest guy I know.”  Bucky said with a sad smile, more tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.  He desperately wanted to tell him how he really felt, to lean over and kiss his friend’s cheek, but he held himself back._

_“I lo--”  He cut himself off, choking back the words before he stood up.  He couldn't say those words; he couldn't even admit it to himself even though he had had those feelings bottled up and tucked away in the back of his mind for years.  If Steve died tonight, he would never know and that was fine with him._

_“G’night Stevie.”  Bucky managed to whisper before he turned to leave._

“STEVE!”  Bucky woke up screaming Steve’s name, his chest heaving and eyes wide.  He was covered in a cold sweat and the image of a scrawny, sickly Steve lying in a hospital bed frightened him to no end.  Seconds later, he heard someone attempting to open the locked door.  

Bucky shrunk back, clenching his hands into fists.  He was ready to fight if there was a threat, but the fear of losing Steve still coursed through his veins.

“Bucky, I’m here!  Unlock the door, please!”  

“N-no!  I can’t.” Bucky’s voice was small, but he quickly unclenched his fists.  Steve was on the other side of that door and Steve was good.

Seconds later, Steve busted through the locked door, the wood splintering into tiny pieces.   Bucky saw the worried look on Steve’s face as he stepped up to the tub.  Both men ignored the broken door and Bucky instantly reached for Steve, needing the comfort.  All he could see in his eyes was Steve lying in a hospital bed, wheezing and lifeless, and it _scared_ him.

The second Steve joined him at his side, Bucky scrambled to bring him closer, dragging him into the tub and pulling him down to his level.  When Steve was on his knees, Bucky pressed an ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat.  Tears stained his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around his friend, keeping him close.  He listened for wheezing, for an irregular heartbeat, but everything checked out.  Steve was okay; he wasn't dying.

“What’s this about, Bucky?”

Bucky didn’t answer, he just kept himself pressed against Steve’s chest, only relaxing when he felt his friend’s strong arms slowly wrapping around his shoulders.  He sniffled, unable to calm himself down fully, but being near Steve and hearing his steady heartbeat was soothing to him.  It let him clear his mind and he nuzzled his face into the other man’s chest, taking in his fresh scent.  He must have showered a short while ago.  

Then Bucky remembered those three words he had almost admitted to Steve in his memory.   _I love you._  His eyes widened and he bit his lip, because he _still felt it_.  The feeling was buried deep down in the recesses of his mind but it was there, plain as day.  He swallowed hard, but couldn't bring himself to move.  Bucky felt the urge to say those three words to Steve this very moment, but he swallowed them down quickly.  This was his secret, one that he took to the grave once and he could do again.

“I’m not angry with you, Bucky.  I was just afraid that something had happened to you when I came home and you weren't at the house.  I’m glad you made it back safely.”  Steve’s voice was soothing, but Bucky didn’t really need an explanation.  Just knowing Steve was still here was enough for him to know that he wasn't angry with Bucky.

“Nat’s here.  She wants to take you shopping for some new clothes.  Think you can manage that today?”  Steve spoke quietly, keeping his breathing even for Bucky.

Bucky shut his eyes when he felt Steve’s fingers sifting through his hair, not wanting to answer his question.  The touch was relaxing and he sighed, tightening his grip on Steve.  He wasn't ready to let go just yet.  

“Hey, it’s okay.  I’m here; I’m okay.”  Steve soothed, fingers playing with his hair.  The two men stayed like that for a few more minutes, until Natalia interrupted them.

“Sorry to ruin your romantic moment, boys, but I’d just like to know if I’m going to be taking you both out shopping.  You’re in need of a makeover, Bucky.”

Bucky looked up at Steve slowly to see small traces of a blush before he pushed himself away, taking a few deep breaths to clear his mind and overcome his nightmare.  Steve was okay; he was breathing and healthy.

“What d’you say, Buck?  Wanna go shopping?”  Steve asked with a smile.  Bucky nodded his response slowly, letting Steve help him out of the tub.  

“Just gimme a minute n’ I’ll be ready.”  Bucky grunted as he shuffled over to the sink.  He splashed a bit of cold water on his face as Natalia and Steve left the small room, leaving him to think about his memory and his feelings for Steve.  He shrunk in on himself, shutting his eyes tight as he tried to push away every last bit of that memory; he tried to forget his feelings for his best friend.  He only saw the scrawny, ill Steve lying motionless in the hospital bed and it hurt.  The image pulled at his heartstrings and he bit back a small cry.  He couldn't see Steve like that again.

“Hey, minute’s up.  You ready yet?”  Natalia piped up as she poked her head through the broken door frame.  

“Yeah.”  Bucky croaked as he turned around, shuffling out of the bathroom slowly.  He followed Natalia out of the bedroom, meeting up with Steve in the main room.

“Want me to follow you, Nat?”  Steve asked as he grabbed his keys off the side table.

“Only if you can keep up,”  Natalia said with a smirk before turning her attention to Bucky.  “Who’re you ridin’ with, Soldier?”

“I um...dunno.”  Bucky shrugged.

“Do you prefer a Harley or would you like something with a little more?”

“Um, the second option.”  Bucky lowered his eyes nervously for a brief moment before glancing up at Natalia.

“Alright, Steve.  Looks like you’re riding alone.  Come on, Bucky.  We've got a long day of shopping.”

Bucky followed the pair of them out of the house slowly, following Natalia to her sleek-looking automobile before climbing in.

“We were at the Bolshoi Theatre together, right?  You practiced ballet and I played the musical pieces on piano.”  Bucky croaked as Natalia started the car.

“Yeah, Bucky.”  Natalia’s lips twitched upward, not taking her eyes off the road as she sped off down a busy street.  “I noticed you've gotten a piano similar to the one you played then.  How’s it sound?”

“Almost like new.”  Bucky said as he looked away for a few minutes, eyes darting back to see if Steve was following them.

“Does it help?”  Bucky nodded.

“Good.  Now about your nightmares, d’you think it’d help if you talked to someone about them?”

“How do you know about my nightmares?”  Bucky croaked, gaze slowly turning back towards Natalia as she swerved passed a few cars.

“I've had them too.”

“I just don’t think anyone would really understand my nightmares enough to help.”  Bucky sighed defeatedly, looking down into his lap before turning his attention back to Natalia.

“Try me.  You had one today, didn’t you?  What was that one about?”  Natalia glanced at Bucky as she stopped at a red light.

“Steve.  All my nightmares revolve around Steve, some form of Steve, or someone that looks like Steve,”  Bucky swallowed before he continued.  

“They all end up close to death or they’re dying right in front of me.  This morning, I dreamt of a time that I saw him before he got the serum.  He was in the hospital, and a priest was reading him his last rites.  I got angry and kicked him out; told him that Steve wasn't dyin’ today.  Not on my watch, at least.”

“And how did seeing Steve like that make you feel?”  Natalia asked as she stopped at another busy intersection.

“Upset.  He’d been in there for a week and hadn't made much progress.  I wanted him to get better, because I didn’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Have you had anymore nightmares like that?”

“Not exactly like that.  I had one a few weeks ago where I was with Pierce.  He kept bringing in small men with blond hair and blue eyes and ordered me to kill them.  They all looked like Steve.”  Bucky choked back the last sentence.  It made him feel sick.  

“Did you kill those men?”

“The first few I didn’t; Pierce killed them in front of me.  They started holding a gun to my head instead, and told me that it was either him or me.   _I had no choice_.”  Bucky hissed, shrinking in on himself.

“You did have a choice.  You chose to save yourself, Bucky.  There’s nothing wrong with that; and look where you are now.  You’re not working for Hydra anymore; you’re with Steve and he’s trying to help.  Let him.”

Bucky nodded slowly and sighed, glancing up only when the car came to a halt in front of a large building.  

“We’re here, You ready?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”  Bucky grunted before he opened the door.  He could see Steve just a few spaces down, waiting for them before the three of them walked into the mall.  Bucky slowly reached out for Steve, his right hand gripping onto his friend’s wrist for comfort.  Having Steve near him grounded him and calmed him down when his new surroundings overwhelmed him.

“Hey, it’s okay.  I’m here, and Nat’s here, okay?  Just ignore everyone else.”  Steve said as he caught Bucky glancing around the building nervously.  He froze up when he felt Natalia wrap a measuring tape around his waist.

“What the--?”

“I’m measuring you so we know what size clothes you wear, now hold still.”  Natalia ordered.  

Bucky sighed and did what he was told, glancing at Steve nervously as Natalia poked, prodded and moved around him.  It took her a few minutes to finish gathering his measurements but once she got what she needed, she dragged Bucky off towards the men's department with Steve following close behind.  

Bucky was miserable.  He hated this.  Natalia kept weaving through clothing racks, sifting through t-shirts, jeans, sweaters and anything she could get her hands on and tossing clothes at Bucky that would fit him.  Some clothing choices he wasn't so sure about, but she insisted that he at least try them on to amuse her.  Bucky reluctantly huffed an ‘okay’ before glancing back at Steve uneasily.  He just smiled back, offering to help carry some of the clothes he was supposed to try on.

“You doing okay so far, Buck?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  Bucky mumbled to Steve, folding a pair of jeans over his left arm as Natalia tossed a hoodie at him.

“Feels like she’s got me trying on the whole goddamn store.”

“Well I did blow your cover when I leaked all of SHIELD’s files to expose Hydra.”  Natalia said as she appeared at Bucky’s side.  “Now come on, Bucky.  You’ve got some stuff to try on.”  

Natalia started pushing him towards the nearest fitting rooms.  Bucky just sighed, dragging his feet along as he followed her, making sure Steve was close behind.  He needed to keep Steve close when he was in an unfamiliar situation.  Steve was like his security blanket, and having him nearby meant he was safe.

“Alright, Buck.  The fitting room is all yours.”  Natalia said with a smirk as she lead him into the cubicle and shut the door as soon as he had gotten settled in.

“You’ll be fine.  Natasha and I are right outside the door, okay?”  Steve said, noticing that Bucky looked unsure when he was ushered into the dressing room.

“Alright.”  Bucky answered uneasily as he started stripping off his clothes.  He swallowed hard, eyeing the different clothes hanging on the hooks; four pairs of jeans and half a dozen t-shirts.

“You dressed yet?”  Natalia called out a few minutes later.  Bucky was still staring his clothing choices down, feeling unsure about what Natalia had picked out for him.  He was so used to just wearing Steve’s sweats and a baggy t-shirt.

“No.”  Bucky bit his lip, grabbing a pair of jeans and quickly pulled them on.  He nearly toppled over when his feet got caught in the ends of the pant legs.  

“Fucking hell!”  He hissed as he caught himself, leaning up against the wall as he regained his balance.

“Bucky, are you okay?”  Steve was at his dressing room door in seconds, fumbling with the handle.

“Oh, the skinny jeans.  I thought they’d look good on you,”  Natalia said.  “You just gotta kinda wiggle yourself into them, okay?”

“‘m fine, Steve.  I don’t wanna wear somethin’ that isn't gonna fit right, though.”  Bucky hissed.

“Just humor me, Bucky.”

“Fine.”  Bucky scoffed as he finished pulling up his pants.  He picked out a t-shirt and quickly slipped it on before he grabbed a hoodie and stepped out.  His face was fixed in a scowl as he let the two of them check him out, folding his arms over his chest, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

Bucky bit his lip nervously, unable to look at either of them for the first few minutes.  He felt exposed in these jeans and he quickly tried to cover himself up but Natalia batted his arms away as she approached him and started circling him.  Steve was leaning against the wall across from him, and Bucky blushed when he quickly looked up, seeing that his friend’s eyes were fixed on his jeans.

“Steve, pick your jaw up off the floor.”  Natalia hissed and Steve seemed to snap out of it, straightening up instantly.  

“Alright, that one’s a winner.  Next outfit.”  Natalia said as she shooed him back into the dressing room.

Bucky huffed but quickly changed into the next outfit Natalia had picked out for him.  Thankfully she only picked out two pairs of skinny jeans, and even though he struggled getting them on the first few times, he was really starting to warm up to the change in fashion.  He liked watching how Steve reacted when he walked out of the dressing room wearing a new outfit.

Natalia actually talked him into getting more skinny jeans, and he wasn't exactly sure how she convinced him or why she wanted him to get more.  He ended up getting six pairs of skinny jeans as they stopped at other stores.  Bucky even picked out a pair of jeans that had the american flag printed across the denim.  He only did it to tease Steve and he couldn't hide his smirk when his friend glared at him.

The three of them were on their way back to the safe house by the end of the evening, and Bucky finally had a chance to relax for a short while.  He had changed into one of his new outfits before they left the mall, and the large, beige and pink sweater made him feel more comfortable.  It was soft and warm, and even Natalia said it looked good on him.  The skinny jeans were another story, but he had honestly warmed up to the tight jeans and thought he pulled them off quite nicely.  

Bucky underestimated how well Natalia was great at persuading him to do things, and he wasn't sure how he agreed to getting a haircut but he soon found himself sitting in the middle of Steve’s bathroom, waiting for her to start.  He was still trying to wrap his head around how she got him to like skinny jeans.  He huffed as Steve sat across from him and they both waited for Natalia to come back with some scissors and an electric trimmer.

“You know you don’t have to do this, Bucky.”  Steve sighed as he leaned back against the sink.

“I-I want to.  I need something different.  I don’t want to look like the weapon Zola made me into,”  Bucky said.  He couldn't make eye contact with Steve, and he rubbed at the space on his left shoulder where metal met skin uneasily.

“Hey, Buck.  Look at me, okay?”  Steve was kneeling in front of him now, and Bucky slowly brought his gaze up to Steve.

“You’re not their weapon anymore, Bucky.  You’ve come a long way since then, but I don’t blame you if you want to change how you look because of what you went through.  I just want you to be happy, Buck, and if getting a haircut will make you feel better, then go for it.  Just don’t be afraid of doing what you want.”

Bucky bit his lip and nodded, not looking away from Steve.  He shifted in his seat once Natalia returned.

“Alright, Bucky.  How different do you want your hairstyle to be?”  Natalia was already raking her fingers through his hair, and Bucky flinched.  Steve must have seen him tense up, because he quickly grabbed onto Bucky’s wrists, squeezing gently.  The touch grounded him and he kept his gaze focused on his friend.

“Look at me, Buck.  Just look at me.  Everything will be okay, got it?”  Steve gave him a hopeful smile and he nodded.

“Alright.  Um...Just gimme whatever you think’ll look good, Natalia.”  Bucky grunted, not looking away from Steve as Natalia started working, running a damp comb through his hair.

Bucky kept completely still as Natalia started trimming away at the ends.  Steve didn’t let go the whole time, and his touch was relaxing.  It calmed his racing mind and distracted him from the noises of scissors snipping away at his hair.  The only time he shut his eyes and felt like withdrawing was when she turned on the electric trimmer and got to work, running the device along the sides of his head.  

The feeling of Bucky’s long hair slowly falling away and leaving him with something new was such a strange sensation.  He wasn't sure if he should feel pleased, or regret for trusting Natalia with his hair.  She went all the way around his head with the trimmer, but left the top of his head nearly untouched.  He could feel the long strands she had left alone fall into his face as she finished him off.

“Just sit tight for a few more minutes, Bucky.  I’m almost done.”  Natalia said as she snipped off a few ends that had gotten away from her before reaching for the hair dryer.  

Bucky sat patiently, keeping still as she brushed out his hair and styled it for him, pulling it back into a small ponytail.  His eyes remained fixed on Steve until the moment Natalia said that she had finished.  Bucky gave a weak smile before nervously standing up and walking up to the closest mirror to check himself out.  

“It’s an undercut.  I figured it’d suit you.  You get to keep a bit of your old self, but there’s something new, too.”  Natalia said as she stood at his side, giving him a gentle pat on the back.

“Thanks, Natalia.”  Bucky mumbled, barely looking away from the mirror.  There were still a few strands of hair that were too short to be pulled back into a ponytail, and he quickly tried to smooth them back, but failed.  He gave a weak smile, turning his head to one side to check out the rest of Natalia’s work.  

“So, what d’you think, Bucky?”  Steve finally piped up after giving him a few minutes to look himself over.

“It’s nice.  I like it.”  Bucky said as he ran his fingers through the short strands of hair, trying to get used to the feeling.  It was just refreshing to have something new, and he felt that it suited him for the time being.  

“Glad you like it, Soldier.  I should get going though.  It’s getting late and I’ve got some work to do.  If you guys need anything, call me.”  Natalia said with a smile before she turned to leave.

“Bye Natalia.”  Bucky muttered, not turning away from the mirror.

“See you later, Nat.”  Steve said as she walked out before he turned back to Bucky.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“‘m okay,”  Bucky said as he finally turned to Steve, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “Thanks for today.”

“No problem.  Hey, you wanna watch a movie or somethin’?”  Steve asked, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.  The touch was like a little reminder that Steve was still at his side, that he wouldn't leave him.

“Yeah, sure.  What d’you got in mind?”  Bucky answered a few moments later, slowly following Steve out of the bathroom and into the livingroom.  He settled down on the couch, only to stop when he hadn't seen Sam anywhere in sight.

“Hey, where’s Wilson?  Isn't he usually around this time of night?”

“Think he’s out bowling with his VA buddies or something.  How about “Fight Club”?”  Steve asked as he dug through the stack of DVDs.

“Sure.  Sounds good.”  Bucky said as he reached for the remote off the coffee table before pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Hey, can you set up the DVD player while I get something to drink?”

“Yeah, sure.  Can you grab me a beer?”  Bucky asked as he turned on the television and attempted to set up the television to play the movie.  

Steve returned a few minutes later with a couple of beers just as Bucky finished setting up the DVD player.  He quickly got the movie playing as both men relaxed into the couch, sipping their beer quietly.  An hour passed and Bucky was enjoying the movie so far.  He was too captivated by the story-line to notice that Steve had fallen asleep on his shoulder, but didn’t mind the closeness.  It was comforting to know that Steve trusted him enough to fall asleep next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translation:  
> You're safe, Soldier. You can stop now.  
> Soldier, wake up. We need to move.  
> Move where?  
> This facility isn't safe anymore. We need to leave. We'll take you somewhere safe.
> 
> This is the image I've based Bucky off of after his makeover.  
>   
> Thanks to [Buckywinchesterr](http://buckywinchesterr.tumblr.com/) for letting me use this image. Please go follow her! She's super awesome!
> 
> Also, thanks again to [Lovealetterbomb](http://lovealetterbomb.tumblr.com/) for editing this chapter.
> 
> I'm terribly sorry for taking so long to update. I finally got a job so I haven't had the kind of time I used to have for fic writing. This fic will continue until the end! Thank you all for your patience!


	3. Can You Fix the Broken?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm scared to get close and I hate being alone  
> I long for that feeling to not feel at all  
> The higher I get, the lower I'll sink  
> I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim  
>   
>  **Trigger Warnings: Self-Harm, drug use**

_ **October 3rd, 2016** _

It wasn't a rare occurrence for Steve to wake up before his alarm went off for his morning run with Sam. He was getting used to shutting off his alarm before it actually went off so as not to disturb Bucky. This morning was a different story. It started off with a muffled cough from a few rooms down and Steve knew.

Steve groaned, yawning as he combed his fingers through his hair and slowly rolled himself out of bed. He felt worse than usual, but he didn’t really get too much sleep. He had stayed up late with Bucky, trying to calm him down after another nightmare. On top of that, he had woken up numerous times throughout the night due to his own nightmares.

Pulling a tank top on, Steve shuffled sleepily down the hall, and slowly made his way to Sam’s room. He knocked quietly before he pushed the door open.

“Hey, you okay?” Steve yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes slowly as he leaned against the door frame.

“Nah, man. I feel like hell; I don’t think I can go running today. Think you can manage without me?” Sam sniffled, his voice barely above a whisper, raspy and grating.

“Nah. ‘s not the same if you’re not runnin’ with me.”

“Sure, ‘cause you lapping me five times makes us running buddies.” Sam coughed back a laugh. Steve returned a small, tired smile before he pushed himself off the door frame.

“Anyways, you want me to get you some medicine?”

“Yeah, thanks man.”

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few minutes. D’you need anything else?” Steve asked before he turned to leave.

“Nah. I’ll be okay.”

Steve nodded before he dragged his feet back into his own bedroom, yawning sleepily as he approached the bathroom and knocked on the door. He expected Bucky to be fast asleep in the tub, but as soon as Steve pushed open the door, the blond found him trying to hide something behind a picture frame.

“What’re you hiding, Bucky?” Steve knew he shouldn't ask, but he was just curious. Whatever it was, it was Bucky’s business and not his, but then he caught a faint glimpse of blood drops on the sink. Steve’s face paled and he stepped forward, eyes scanning Bucky’s naked torso for any sign of injury. Bucky looked panicked and he started to draw back, moving away from Steve. Everything checked out until he reached forward to examine his right arm.

Bucky didn’t even fight him when Steve pulled him closer, forcing Bucky to extend his right arm out towards him. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting down to see numerous fresh cuts littering Bucky’s skin. He could feel a knot forming in his throat, and he swallowed back the tears. He glanced up at Bucky, seeing the uneasiness in his eyes and Steve felt him start to pull his arm away.

“Why?” Steve whispered, slowly stepping closer to Bucky as he stepped back, pressing himself up against the wall like he was trying to escape.

“Why?” Steve repeated a bit louder, towering over Bucky who had shrunk himself into a corner in an attempt to make himself smaller.

“I-I don’t know!” Bucky whimpered, unable to make eye contact with him. Steve suddenly felt so angry with himself. He should have seen the signs earlier. “I-it makes me feel better.”

Steve grit his teeth, unable to see the fear in Bucky’s eyes through his own rage. He wasn't angry with Bucky; he couldn't be angry with Bucky. What Bucky was doing to himself was wrong, but Steve felt he should have noticed this sooner. He should have seen the signs.

Through his own anger and tears, Steve clenched one of his hands into a fist and drove his knuckles into the wall right next to Bucky’s head. That was when his rage boiled over and he finally saw what kind of damage he had done. There was now a gaping hole in the drywall, but Steve wasn't concerned with that. Instead, he turned to Bucky, who had shoved past him in his fear and curled up in the tub; his safe place. He refused to look at Steve, and he was shaking, his face frozen in fear. It took Steve a few moments to open his mouth to try and explain himself.

“Bucky...I-I’m so--”

“Get out!” Bucky shouted through his own sobs, shooting a fearful glare at Steve.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.”

“GET OUT!” Bucky roared, his glare now defiant and angry, tears staining his unshaven face. Steve swallowed hard and nodded nervously. He quickly shuffled out of the room and shut the door behind him, only to come face to face with a very sick-looking Sam.

“What was that all about?” Sam coughed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Steve sighed, his emotions hitting him like a ton of bricks. He sat down on the edge of his bed, putting his head in his hands as he tried to sort through his mess of emotions and hold back the tears. He was worried about Bucky and afraid that he had hurt his friend in more ways than one.

“Steve, what’s going on?” Sam sniffled, sitting down next to Steve.

The answer was on the tip of Steve’s tongue, but he was at a loss for words. He didn’t want to admit it to Sam, because he still couldn't believe it himself. Admitting that Bucky was self-harming meant that it was real. He saw the look of concern in Sam’s eyes, so Steve swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“Bucky’s been harming himself.” Steve choked out, quickly wiping away whatever tears threatened to show. The words that escaped his lips cut through the room like a knife Bucky aimed right for his neck. The words stung in his throat and bled out of his mouth, tasting like poison on his tongue.

“What? How?”

“He’s been cutting himself. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it sooner. I should have. God, Sam…” Steve mumbled through his tears, unable to calm down. He couldn't even look at his friend. “How could I have been so oblivious?”

“Don’t blame yourself, Steve. That’s only going to make things worse.” Sam said between coughs.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?!” Steve hissed.

“Listen to him. Try and understand his feelings. He’s probably overwhelmed by his memories and his new surroundings and maybe the only way he can reign that all in and keep it controlled is to self-harm.” Sam coughed, reaching over to grab the tissue box off Steve’s nightstand. “I’m commandeering this, by the way.”

“He never tells me how he’s feeling.” Steve gave a defeated sigh, quickly wiping away the rest of his tears.

“Feelings don’t always have to be shared vocally, Steve. Just keep an eye on his body language.”

Steve sighed heavily and nodded. It made sense, but he should have known. He was too caught up in trying to take care of Bucky and Steve still felt guilty for not catching this sooner.

“So tell me what happened with you in the bathroom.”

“I got angry,” Steve sniffled, slowly looking up at the bathroom door. He wondered how Bucky was doing, and worried even more. “At myself. I threw a punch into the wall and it frightened Bucky. He won’t let me near him.”

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, man.” Sam mumbled through more coughs. “He’s not gonna let you near him if you frighten him like that.”

“I know,” Steve sighed. “I messed up. What do I do?”

“Give him some space and some time. Let me talk to him. I might be able to fix this.” Steve sighed and nodded before he stood up.

“Alright. Thanks, Sam. I guess I've got no choice but to go to the corner store and get you some medicine.”

“Take your time, Steve. Get some fresh air; you need it.” Sam sniffled, patting Steve on the back as he got up to leave. He waited until the blond left the room before Sam turned his attention to the bathroom door. He sighed and stood up, taking the box of tissues with him as he approached the door. He knocked quietly.

“Bucky? It’s Sam. Can we talk?” He coughed, leaning against the door gently.

“If you don’t want to talk, it’s fine. Lets just go back to the knocking system. Knock twice if it’s okay for me to come in.” _Knock. Knock._

Sam slowly pushed open the door a few moments later, eyes briefly darting to the hole in the wall before he focused on Bucky. He looked terrified, unable to meet even Sam’s gaze as he slowly settled down on the floor across from the tub. He made sure to tell Bucky what he was doing beforehand so he wouldn't lash out, thinking he was in danger.

“It’s alright to be afraid, Bucky. I just want you to know that.” Sam coughed, which seemed to startle Bucky even more.

“‘m sorry, I’m a little under the weather, so you’re gonna have to excuse the sniffles and the coughs.”

Bucky nodded, pulling his knees closer to his chest.

“Bucky, could you show me your arm, please?” Bucky responded to the question by shaking his head.

“Alright. That’s fine. You’re doing good, okay?” Sam tried his hardest to keep his voice gentle, suppressing a few coughs and sniffles in the process. Bucky just nodded his response and Sam sighed.

“Steve and I are just worried about you. I've seen these kinds of things happen; I’ve heard about them in my VA meetings. I understand that what you’re doing to yourself might give you a sense of control over your memories and emotions, and that’s okay. What you’re feeling is completely okay. What you _don’t_ want to feel is also okay, but self-harm isn't really the greatest outlet. It could do some serious damage to yourself in the long run.”

Sam stopped when he noticed Bucky shooting him a nervous glance. He returned the look with what he thought was a warm smile, considering how shitty he was feeling. He sniffled, quickly blowing his nose into a tissue.

“Is it the pain that comes from self-harming that gives you that sense of control, Bucky?”

Bucky nodded his response and Sam sighed, noticing Bucky tapping on the tub nervously with his left hand. The metal fingers danced along the porcelain and tapping away to a tune Sam couldn't recognize.

“Alright, there’s not much I can suggest that would give you the same amount of pain; at least nothing a therapist would suggest. I’m not a certified therapist; I never really went to school for that, so you don’t have to take my suggestion.” Sam coughed, leaning back against the wall.

“I know there are more therapeutic ways to go about dealing with something similar to your ordeal that cause about the same amount of pain, but I’m pretty sure therapists wouldn't suggest it. I've known guys in and out of the Air Force that tell me tattoos and piercings can be very relaxing; it lets them clear their mind. Some of my buddies in the 58th rescue squadron have said the same thing, and have actually gotten into the tattoo and piercing business.”

Bucky’s ears seemed to perk up at the idea of getting either of those options, and Sam couldn't hide a small smile. This was progress. It was deterring Bucky from self-harming into a more controlled environment.

“Now tattoos are permanent, and maybe we can talk more about that at a later date, but how about we start off with something small and temporary, like piercings?”

“Sounds good.” Bucky grunted quietly, still unable to make eye contact with Sam but at least he was speaking again. That meant Bucky was calming down and starting to feel comfortable with himself again.

“I’m a bit incapacitated right now, but I’ll give my buddies a call and see if we can stop by in a few days. Hopefully this’ll help, Buck. We’re both really worried about you.”

“Thanks, Wilson.” Bucky mumbled and Sam sighed, hearing the front door open. That was his cue to leave. He grabbed the tissue box he had taken with him and slowly stood up, mumbling a goodbye before he left the bathroom. Steve met him at his bedroom door, and Sam sniffled.

“So what’s going on? Did you talk to him?”

“Yeah, I think I got things sorted out,” Sam coughed, glancing down at the bag of medicine in Steve’s hand as he started pulling the boxes out one by one and handing them over.

“We can talk about it over lunch, okay? I’m gonna head to bed once these meds kick in.”

Steve nodded.

“Get well soon, man.” Steve forced a smile and patted Sam’s shoulder.

“Thanks, man.” Sam mumbled before he walked out. Steve was soon left to his own devices, and his eyes briefly fell on the bathroom door that Bucky had helped him replace a few days ago. He sighed heavily and turned to leave the room, picking up a sketchbook and a pencil off of his dresser along the way.

Steve figured that drawing might be the only thing to take his mind off what had been going on, so he sat down on the couch and started sketching. He started sketching Coney Island; he sketched the people walking along the boardwalk. He swallowed hard when he started sketching Bucky standing in the middle of the crowd. He looked to be around the age of fourteen and had the biggest smile on his face. Steve remembered it like it was yesterday, and it was the only thing that was keeping him calm.

\---

_ **October 6th, 2016** _

Opening up to Steve again was a slow process over the last few days; and the hole in the wall was a constant reminder of the fear Bucky felt when Steve was angry, but he gave Bucky space. The blond hadn't talked to him or read to him since the incident, and it gave Bucky time to think.

The only sort of interaction Bucky had with Steve happened when the blond slid a drawing underneath the bathroom door last night.  He didn’t bother to get up to check it out until this morning, and he could barely hold back the small smile that threatened to show.  He recognized Steve’s drawing style, and how he captured Bucky in a crowd of people walking along the boardwalk in Coney Island warmed his heart.  He remembered that day so clearly since his last nightmare.  That was the day he fell in love with Steve, and those feelings he felt for his friend only grew when he looked at that picture.  He almost wondered if Steve knew about his feelings, but quickly shoved it back into the empty corners of his mind to worry about later.

Sam approached him in the early afternoon, asking him if he was ready to head out to meet his friends at the tattoo and piercing parlor they owned.  Bucky felt a bit anxious, but it wasn't out of fear; he felt more excited than afraid.  He bit back a small smile as he opened the door, only to back away when he saw Steve standing behind Sam.  He gave the blond a wary glance before he looked down.

“Oh, yeah.  Steve’s going with us.  I thought it’d be a good idea for him to get a general idea of what piercings and tattoos were all about, and get an understanding that it’s not all that taboo anymore.”

Bucky bit his lip nervously and swallowed hard, nodding slowly.  Sam motioned for Bucky to follow him out of the bedroom, and he tried not to make eye contact with Steve as he followed them both out of the house.  

“You guys don’t mind walkin’, do you?  It’s just a few blocks away.”  

“Not at all.”  Steve said with a small smile.  

Bucky shook his head in response, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked with the two men, keeping his eyes downward for a short while before he started glancing around nervously.  He still had a habit of checking his surroundings every few seconds to see if anyone was following them or if there was danger nearby.  Steve ended up walking with Bucky, keeping his pace even with him and part of him liked the closeness, but he still felt skittish around the blond.  He clenched his jaw, looking away quickly as Steve tried to spark up a conversation.

“Look, I’m sorry.  I wasn't angry with you, Bucky.  I was angry with myself; I still am.  I shouldn't have scared you like that.”

“‘s okay, Steve.”  Bucky whispered, slowly turning his head to look up at Steve.  

“How I reacted wasn't okay, Bucky.”  Bucky slowly brought his gaze to look at the blond and he saw the sad look in Steve’s eyes as he spoke.  He swallowed hard and cautiously reached over, grabbing onto Steve’s wrist.

“I shouldn't have scared you like that, and I’m so sorry.”

Bucky nodded as if to say that he understood.  He was still unsure if he felt safe around Steve, but he felt the need to make sure that his friend was okay.  He wasn’t ready to forgive Steve yet, but he knew he couldn’t stay mad at him for long.  There was no way Steve was going to leave his side anytime soon.  The two stayed quiet for a few minutes as they followed Sam.

“So um...piercings?  Really?”  Steve said with a half-smile.

“Yeah.  Sam says it’s better than what I've been doin’ to myself I guess.”  Bucky shrugged.

“What’re you gonna get?”  Steve gave him a curious glance and Bucky shrugged again.

“Dunno.  Maybe just my ears.  What else can you get pierced?”

“Well, I worked with a gal that had a lip piercing.  Natasha tried hooking me up with her once.”  Bucky raised his eyebrows at that statement, biting his lip gently.

“Did you?”  Bucky asked and he smirked as Steve shook his head, a shy smile gracing the blond’s lips.  “You should’a.  Maybe I’ll get a lip piercing then.”

“You can get whatever you want, Bucky.”

Sam must have been listening in on their conversation because he quickly jumped in.

“You can really get anything you want pierced, Bucky.  I know it wasn't too common for people to get anything pierced back then, but you want your lip pierced?  Go right ahead.  You want your tongue pierced?  Sure, why not?  Whatever helps you feel better, Bucky.”  Sam shrugged.

Bucky just nodded, his grip tightening around Steve’s wrist for a moment.  If he could get anything he wanted pierced, then that gave him a whole list of possibilities to choose from.  He wasn't sure what he wanted done first, but a tongue piercing sounded interesting.  Was there a limit on how many piercings he could get?  

Bucky’s thoughts were interrupted when Sam lead them into a small building.  He quickly glanced at the the words “Angel Ink” painted onto the window in bold white letters. He almost wondered if there was a meaning behind the name.  As the three of them entered, Bucky noticed the walls were covered in murals, and both Steve and him were distracted by the art pieces as Sam rang the bell at the front desk.  

Along one wall, there was a mural of an empty EXO-7 Falcon pack with the wings extended and a pair of empty military boots resting in front of it.  The words “RIP Riley” were painted over that and the display was surrounded by a group of men.  One of them looked a lot like Sam.  Bucky knew what the empty boots meant and he stared at them with sad eyes before he looked away.  He wondered if something like that had been for him, or for Steve.

“Charlie!  Hey man, long time no see!  What’s up?”  Sam’s voice distracted him from looking at the other murals and Bucky quickly turned to see who he was talking to.

“‘s business as usual.” The man Bucky assumed was named Charlie said as he stepped behind the front desk.  “Barney’s got a big piece to work on in an hour.  Full back piece.  You should see it before you leave.  The guy’s getting it dedicated to his late wife and child who died in the 9/11 attacks.  It’s really beautiful.”

“That sounds awesome, dude.  I’ll have to check it out.  Anyways, this is my buddy Steve, and this is the guy I told you about; Bucky.  He’s lookin’ at getting some piercings today.”

Charlie’s eyes instantly darted to him, and Bucky shrunk in on himself as the other man eyed his arm.  He suddenly felt nervous about the situation, and Steve must have seen it because he felt a strong hand squeezing his right shoulder.  The touch grounded him and calmed his racing mind and he smiled nervously as Charlie reached out for a handshake.

“Ah, yeah.  Sam told me a bit about you.  Prisoner of War, right?  Well, I’m glad you’re home safe.  It’s nice meeting you, Bucky.”  

Bucky grunted his response, nodding nervously as he reached out to shake the man’s hand.  He couldn't make eye contact with Charlie but he gave shy smile.  Once he let go, he inched closer to Steve, reaching back over to take his wrist.  

“So what’re you thinkin’ of getting pierced, Bucky?”  Charlie asked.

“I dunno.  What kinda piercings can I get?”  

“Just about anything.  I've got a book of what kind of piercings you can get if you need ideas.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.  Can I see it?”

Charlie was already pulling the book out and setting it down on the counter for Bucky to look through by the time he asked.

“Take your time, buddy, and make yourself comfortable.  I’m not gonna rush ya.  Also, I've gotta have you fill this out before you get pierced.  It’s just a consent form, for legal purposes.”  Charlie smiled as he pulled out the piece of paper and set it on the desk for Bucky to read over.  He then stepped out from behind the front desk to talk to Sam and show him around.  

Bucky nodded and took the book and the consent form off of the counter before he sat down on the couch.  He briefly looked up a few moments later to see Steve taking a look at the murals and talking to Sam before he turned his attention back to the book.

Bucky flipped through each page slowly, getting a good idea of what he wanted to get for this trip.  If his first experience with piercings was positive, he would definitely come back and get more, because his mind was swimming with ideas.  Steve eventually joined him at his side, looking over to see what he was looking at.

“You get a good idea of what you want?”

“Yeah, I think I’m just about ready.”  Bucky’s lips tugged into a half-smile as he shut the book and turned his attention to the consent form.  It didn’t take long; he bit down on his lip as he read through the legal form and initialed where he was supposed to, only stopping when the document asked him to present some sort of identification.

“Um, Steve?  What do I do?”  Bucky pointed to the prompt on the form.

“I’m not exactly sure.  Let’s ask Charlie.”  Steve suggested as soon as he read the prompt.  Bucky nodded and stood up, reaching out to take Steve’s wrist as he followed Steve up to the front desk.  He placed the book and the form on the front desk just as Charlie returned from the back room with Sam.

“All finished?”  Charlie asked.

“Actually, Bucky’s stuck on the identification portion of the form.  We haven’t gotten around to getting him some legal form of identification just yet.”

“Oh, it’s fine.  If you could just sign on the line below, Steve, and present a drivers license or state-issued ID, it should be okay.”

It looked like Steve didn’t even think twice about the decision.  He grabbed a pen and signed the paper before fishing his ID out of his wallet and handing it over to Charlie without a second thought.  Bucky wanted to thank him as he watched Steve sign the paper as he wasn't really sure how he felt about piercings.  He inched closer, his left shoulder brushing up against Steve’s right as he nervously turned to look at the blond.  He couldn't feel the warmth of the blond’s body or the pressure put on his left limb from brushing up against Steve’s arm, but he figured that this was progress.  This was Bucky’s way of showing trust, as he didn’t trust himself with the weapon Hydra had given him.

Steve was smiling, and Bucky bit his lip, unsure of how to react to that.  He pressed his lips into a hard line, looking away quickly as Charlie photocopied the ID to the consent form and asked Bucky what he was looking at getting today.

“Oh um...an industrial on my left ear, both lobes pierced, snakebites, tongue and a horizontal eyebrow piercing for now.”

“For now?”  Steve asked as he turned to Bucky, both eyebrows raised in shock.  

“Yeah,”  Sam cut in before Bucky could say anything.  “I told him he can come back and get more whenever he feels like self-harming.  We kinda worked this deal out where he can only have five piercings at a time after this first session.”

“Alright Bucky, if you could follow me, we can get this started.”

“C-can Steve come with me, please?”  Bucky was already reaching for Steve’s wrist before Charlie could give him an answer.

“Yeah, sure!  C’mon and follow me to the back, guys.”  Charlie motioned for the two to follow him to one of the cubicles in back and Bucky cautiously followed, his eyes wandering around the surroundings.  He took in the different art painted along the walls and pinned to the cubicles and he wondered what Steve thought of it all.  As soon as Bucky arrived in Charlie’s little corner of the piercing and tattoo parlor, he sat down in one of the chairs provided.  Steve took a seat down next to him and he gave Bucky an encouraging smile.

“Make yourself at home, boys.  I’ll be back in a few minutes.  I just have to wash my hands.”  Bucky nodded and tried to make himself comfortable in his new surroundings, fidgeting nervously before Steve grabbed his hand.  The touch calmed him, and he instantly stopped shifting in his chair.  

True to his word, Charlie returned a minute later wearing latex gloves and sat down, getting himself comfortable before he started explaining what he was going to do.  He showed him the different instruments and explained what each one was for.  Charlie then started to sterilize the area Bucky wanted pierced, starting with his ears.  He talked him through the entire process, which calmed Bucky down.  Nothing Charlie was doing to him would be a surprise, and that was a calming feeling.

After marking the area, Charlie grabbed one of the needles he had shown Bucky and got to work.  He started with the industrial and Bucky shut his eyes as the needle pierced the cartilage.   _Don’t show pain_.  He didn’t flinch or draw back.  He kept completely still, squeezing Steve’s hand gently when it was over.

“Alright, Bucky.  The first one’s done.  You wanna check it out or are you gonna wait until it’s all done?”

“I’ll wait.”  Bucky said with a half-smile, sitting back as Charlie nodded and grabbed another needle and got to work.  He didn’t flinch when another needle pierced his skin; he looked relaxed.  Every once in a while, he would glance over at Steve to see if he was okay with what Charlie was doing, but his expression seemed just as calm as his own.

The three of them were on their way back to the safe house about an hour later.  Bucky couldn't stop playing with his tongue ring, even though Charlie had advised him not to.  He kept clicking the metal against his teeth and the noise kept his thoughts in check, yet he still felt on edge about something and he knew just how to fix it.  

As soon as Bucky was back at the safe house, he retreated back into Steve’s bathroom, taking a few minutes to himself before he popped a few pills into his mouth.  He hunched over the sink as he waited for the pills to kick in and do their job, slowly looking up to check out his new piercings.  His skin was just a tiny bit irritated and red from being pierced, but Bucky knew it would heal quickly.  He ran his tongue over his lower lip slowly as he turned his attention to the drawing that Steve had given him, running his fingers along the soft lines left by the pencil.  

Bucky taped the drawing up on the wall with some medical tape he had found in the medicine cabinet, covering the hole Steve had made with his fist.  That was the only thing that set his mind at ease as he settled into the tub to sleep.  At least the drawing could mask a bad memory, and Bucky drifted off thinking about what Steve had drawn, the image fresh in his mind.

_Strawberry blond hair and kind, old eyes flashed before him, staring him down.  He had just completed a mission under Alexander Pierce’s orders, and he looked pleased.  He was not pleased with the Soldier; he was pleased that the mission was successful.  That was all that seemed to matter.  He did not care that the Asset returned with blood on his hands, or with a few cuts and bruises decorating his body._

_This mission was simple; kill Howard and Maria Stark and make it look like an accident.  The name almost felt familiar on his tongue, but ultimately meant nothing.  The name was just another he could add to his list of successful kills that he would eventually forget as soon as he was wiped._

_The Soldier was pleased to hear that Pierce opted to skip the wipe this time, and a look of relief washed over his gaunt features.  The brief moment of relief would be over soon enough.  He knew what was coming next, and his eyes quickly averted to the small cryochamber tucked away in the corner of the room.  He bit the inside of his cheek nervously as his handlers were ordered to freeze him._

_The Soldier dreaded the cryochamber almost as much as the chair.  Sometimes the flash freezing process didn’t complete quite right, leaving him completely awake, freezing, but unable to move or cry out after a few minutes.  His handlers had gotten into the habit of watching him for the first five minutes to make sure the cryochamber did its job correctly.  This was one of those times where the process malfunctioned._

_The moment the Soldier stepped into the cryochamber, he knew that the process went wrong.  He felt the cold surrounding him a bit too slowly, and he could still breathe, but barely.  His eyes widened in fear at the thought of being trapped in such a small space, and he yelled out before the freezing process completed.  It was more out of fear than getting the attention of his handlers, because being conscious while trapped in a small space was more frightening to him than being noticed._

_It took his handlers three minutes to notice that the Soldier was in distress and they quickly opened the chamber, dragging him out to be thawed.  It was a slow process, as it took him a few minutes to get his joints working properly again, then came the throbbing ache that coursed through his entire body that would last at least fifteen minutes.  He bit his lip to hide the pain as his handlers covered him in thin blankets and left him to try and recover on his own._

_The Soldier did not want to be locked away and frozen again; not after the process had failed the first time.  He stared at the cryochamber coldly as the throbbing pain that coursed through his veins started to die down, knowing that in a few minutes, his handlers would return to put him back in his small chamber.  Moments like this made him wish he hadn't survived the things he’d been through even though he could no longer remember most of them.  He knew he must have been through something traumatic for his arm to be replaced with a metal one, but he never asked._

_The Soldier’s heart rate picked up the moment his handlers had returned for him.  A tiny whisper of a voice tucked away in the corner of his mind kept telling him to fight back as the men reached for him, pulling him back onto his feet.  He wanted to fight, but he didn’t have the energy or the courage to do so.  He swallowed hard as they lead him back to the chamber.  Whatever color that had returned to his face quickly drained as he swallowed down his fear and stepped inside.  As soon as the door shut, everything seemed to still._

Bucky’s eyes snapped open as soon as his vision flooded with white, and he was disoriented for the first few seconds.  He thrashed and flailed about, thinking he was still in the cryochamber before he noticed that he wasn't frozen or trapped.  He shivered uncontrollably as he struggled to climb out of the tub, his eyes staring at the small space with disgust as he backed away.  The tub reminded him of the cryochamber he had been locked into for decades, and he suddenly _hated_ it.  It made him feel cold, alone and angry.

Clenching both hands into fists seemed like the only way for Bucky to calm his racing mind and his emotions.  He always felt so isolated after coming out of the cryochamber, only to come face to face with Pierce to be given orders.  It was dehumanizing.  

Bucky felt that he needed to be near someone to take his mind off the nightmare he had just woken up from, so he silently slipped out of the bathroom to look for Steve.  It didn’t take long, as the blond had decided to turn in for the night and was already fast asleep in his bed.  Bucky bit his lip nervously as he inched over to the large mattress, standing right at the edge.  He hesitated before climbing underneath the covers slowly, ready to back off if it startled Steve.  The added weight to the mattress seemed to have woken him, who groaned sleepily before he turned over to see what was going on.

“Wha--?”  Steve mumbled sleepily as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“Hey Buck, what’s wrong?”  Steve croaked.

“Nightmare.”  Bucky grunted as he tried to make himself comfortable in bed next to Steve.  He felt calm the moment he pressed himself against the other man’s side, trying to steal a bit of Steve’s body heat.

“Jeezus, Buck.  You’re freezing!”  Steve hissed, but cautiously drew Bucky into his arms in an attempt to warm him up.

Bucky was not used to the closeness, and he started to panic and feel trapped the moment Steve wrapped his arms around him, but the warmth and the gentle touches settled those feelings quickly.  The feel of bare skin pressing against his own naked torso felt so foreign to him, but he enjoyed it, and Steve’s scent was so soothing and familiar that it was starting to bring back more memories.

“Hey, it’s okay.  You’re safe.  D’you care to talk about your nightmare?”  Steve’s voice remained soft, his fingers slowly combing through Bucky’s messy mop of hair to try and calm him down.

Bucky felt himself lock up in fear as Steve asked him to talk about his nightmare.  He didn’t want to experience something like that again, let alone think about it, so he quickly shook his head and tried to hide himself by burying his face into Steve’s neck.  The comfort and the warmth felt familiar, like the times the two of them shared a cot in the cold winter months to keep warm.  It felt safe.  Everything about Steve made him feel safe right now, like the cryochamber wasn't real and he had never been frozen.

“Talk to me, Bucky.  What’s on your mind?”

“We used to share a cot in the winter because you would get so cold, remember that, Steve?  In the mornings, you would always press your feet against my legs and they were always so ice cold that it would wake me right up.  Always called you a punk for that.  You still are.”  Bucky mumbled.

“And you’re still a jerk, Bucky.”  Steve whispered, a smile dancing across his face and it lit up the whole room.  Bucky could feel the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach as soon as he saw that smile.

“May I sleep here tonight, Steve?”  Bucky whispered as he gave the blond a hopeful look.

“Of course.”  Steve spoke softly.

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, Buck.    My bed is always open to you if you need it.  Now lets get some sleep.  It’s late.”  Steve yawned, squeezing Bucky to his side gently for a brief moment.

Bucky nodded as Steve slowly let go and got comfortable, curling up on his side so Bucky could wrap an arm around him.  He did just that, pulling himself closer to Steve’s warm body and letting the blond use his arm as a pillow like he always used to do.  It felt like a little piece of home, and it allowed Bucky to quickly relax and fall back asleep without thinking about his previous nightmare.

\---

_ **October 10th, 2016** _

_Steve could feel the steady rhythm of the train chugging along the tracks at a breakneck pace beneath his feet, but he was too preoccupied with the task at hand.  The car was empty, save for a few shelving units with unmarked containers.  Steve should have realized the danger the second he and Bucky had stepped into the car, but instead, he pushed forward, walking into the next car to inspect his surroundings.  The second he stepped into the next car, the metal door slammed shut behind him, separating Bucky from him._

_Steve felt the panic coursing through his veins as he turned back to see Bucky’s panicked expression through the small window, but their attention was soon drawn away from each other and to the threat at hand.  The two men were soon faced with their enemy; Bucky was taking on an agent with a handgun while Steve went up against an agent with two large energy blasters in each hand._

_Steve dodged every blast the hydra agent aimed at him, ducking behind cases and dodging out of the way of other explosions.  He fired his own gun at the enemy before ducking behind another case as a ball of energy flew straight for his head.  Once the coast was clear, Steve charged at the Hydra agent, blocking a shot before knocking him over, hitting him with the edge of his shield._

_The fight was quick, as Steve had been determined to get back to Bucky.  One hydra agent down, one more to go._

_Steve turned towards the door, using the agent’s weapon to fire through the first door before he pried open the second.  Bucky was out of bullets and he could see the panic in his best friends eyes as he braced himself against the back wall.  He looked like he was about to give up, but Bucky’s glanced up, seeing Steve hiding in the shadows and he was back in the game the second Steve tossed him his firearm.  The Captain charged forward, sliding a few cases off the shelf the hydra agent was hiding behind, and that gave a clear shot for his friend to take down the target.  Two shots and it seemed to be over._

_“I had ‘em on the ropes.”  Bucky mumbled as he straightened up, turning to Steve._

_“I know you did.”  Steve turned briefly to see the other agent charging up his weapon and aiming both blasters straight for them._

_“Get down!”  He yelled as he pulled Bucky behind him, ducking behind the shield quickly as a blast of blue energy headed straight for them.  The explosion sent him flying across the car, his shield landing not far off.  A gust of cold, winter air hit his face and he soon realized that the blast had left a large hole in the side of the train car, but he wasn't concerned with that until he saw Bucky pick up his shield.  His best friend was sent flying out of the train car before Steve could get back on his feet._

_Steve raced towards his shield, picking it up and tossing it at the Hydra agent as quickly as he could, but his priorities were elsewhere.  He raced towards the gaping hole in the train car, not even looking back to see if the Hydra agent was dead.  He was already climbing out of the car to see if Bucky had somehow managed to grab onto anything._

_“Hang on!  Grab my hand!”  Steve shouted and reached out for his friend as soon as he caught sight of him clutching onto a handlebar._

_The second Bucky reached out for him, the bar came loose and he was sent tumbling into the ravine.  The only thing Steve could do was look on in horror as he heard his friend’s screams and it chilled him to the bone.  He could feel his heart stop for a brief moment and he felt a knot the size of his fist forming in his throat the second Bucky was out of sight._

Steve’s eyes fluttered open moments later, and all he could feel was an overwhelming amount of sadness, guilt and anger.  It felt like Bucky had fallen from the train yesterday and the guilt of not going after him quickly set in.  He needed to talk to Bucky to see if he was alright.  

Steve slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before he crawled out of bed, making his way towards the bathroom.  Once Steve approached the door, he knocked twice, waiting for an answer.  He was met only with silence, so he knocked again. Once again, there was no response on the other end of the door.  A look of worry crossed over Steve’s face as he pushed open the door, taking a quick look around to see that Bucky was no where to be found.  The blond could feel all the color draining from his face, fearing the worst.

Steve rushed back into his bedroom, quickly pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants before he stormed out of the house to go look for his friend.  He wasn't sure where to start, but as soon as he was on his Harley, he sped off down the road, deciding to check all of of the familiar spots the pair of them used to hang out at before the war.  

Steve felt an ache he hadn't felt in decades as he mulled over his nightmare.  He lost Bucky once, and he feared that he was losing him again.  He wasn't going to leave his best friend behind; not like last time.  Steve stopped at the docks first, but everything seemed still.  The only sound came from the water hitting the banks, so Steve moved on to the next location; Coney Island.  

Bucky wasn't at Coney Island either, so he drove around to the little shop Steve had taken them for shakes, circling the block a few times with no sign of his friend.  He was starting to lose hope, but he decided to make one last stop at the location where their apartment building used to stand.  The apartments that had replaced theirs looked just as run down, and the buildings around it were mostly abandoned or just as dirty and run down as the next.

Steve circled the block once, briefly checking down every alley, only to feel his blood run cold the second he stepped into the last dark alley on the block.

_“‘m sorry, Travis.  I don’t have any money this time.  ‘s there any way I can get the pills now n’ pay you back later?”_

The voice was muffled, barely audible but Steve could tell the voice belonged to Bucky.   _Pills?_  His mind could barely wrap around the thought, and he was so tempted to storm down that alley and drag Bucky away but he was curious to see where this was going.

_“Well there is another way I’ll let you get your fix for free, if you’re up for it.”_

_“Yeah, sure.  I’ll do whatever; jus’ gimme the pills, Travis.”_

_“Gotta give before you can receive, Soldier, n’ with those pretty lips of yours, I bet you’re real good at suckin’ cock, so get to it.”_

Steve had about enough and raced down the alley the second he heard those words, only to find Bucky already on his knees and fumbling to get the other man’s cock out of his jeans.  Bucky didn’t even hesitate, and that’s what scared him.  It made him feel sick.  The act itself wasn't sickening to Steve, but the reason behind it was, and he quickly pulled Bucky away.

“Bucky!  What the hell are you doing?”  

Steve ignored ‘Travis’, who had quickly tucked himself back in and ran off.  He wasn't concerned with the dealer, even though he should have been.  He was more concerned about Bucky, who looked just as shocked as Steve did.  Then he noticed it; the gaunt, sickly look to Bucky’s features.  He was shaking, pale and lifeless.  His eyes were glassy and he looked almost dazed.  

“S-Steve, I--”  Bucky cut himself off to turn around and throw up.  That’s when Steve realized how serious this situation was.  

The blond slowly reached out, resting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he doubled over, throwing up whatever was left in his stomach.  For once, Steve wasn't angry.  He wasn't blaming himself; he was more concerned for Bucky than anything.  He wondered how long this had been going on.  He wondered how many times Bucky had snuck out before that first time Steve had caught him.  Had he been on his knees for that dealer before?  

This was something the two of them would have to discuss later.

“‘m sorry, Steve.”  Bucky croaked as he finished emptying his stomach.  He couldn't even look Steve in the eyes out of shame.

“Save it, Buck.  We’ll talk about this later.  Let’s just get you home.”  Steve spoke softly, keeping Bucky close.  This was his own way of telling Bucky that he wasn't angry, and that he’d help him through this.  When he seemed okay to move, Steve slowly lead Bucky back to his Harley, stopping every few hundred feet to check on his friend.  

“I-I don’t wanna get on that, Steve.  ‘s loud n’ you know I don’t like loud noises.”  Bucky sounded uneasy as he approached the bike, giving the vehicle a wary look.

“Well I’m not leaving you here, Buck, and you’re not walking home.  Here…”  Steve fished through one of the small compartments on his Harley, tossing some earplugs to the brunet.  “Put those in.  They should block most of the noise, and here, you can use my helmet.”

The blond watched as Bucky shakily shoved the earplugs into his ears before he offered over his helmet.  

“n’ what if we crash?  I don’t want you risking your life over me, Steve.”  Bucky coughed, but quickly turned to throw up in the gutter.  The retching only made Steve worry, wondering if Bucky would have enough energy to make it home.  This was Bucky though; not the Winter Soldier.  The statement was so Bucky, putting Steve before himself.  He couldn't help but feel a bit of warmth spread throughout his body at the thought.  

“Do I really need to mention the time I stormed a Hydra base 30 miles behind enemy lines just to get you back?”

“You just did, punk.”  Bucky glared at Steve as he straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  He slowly approached the bike and reluctantly took the helmet, shoving it onto his head without another word or glare before mounting the bike.

The moment Bucky had a stable grip on Steve’s hips, the Harley took off.  Steve kept the speed down, trying his hardest to keep the bike steady without hitting any potholes along the way.  He didn’t need Bucky getting sick on his Harley.  He could feel his friend pressing close, his grip tightening on him as they turned a corner.

It took the two of them about ten minutes to get back to the safe house, but the moment the bike came to a stop, Bucky ripped off the helmet and scrambled off the vehicle to throw up in one of the planter boxes.  Steve hated seeing Bucky like this, and he thought it was all over.  Apparently he was wrong.  What else had Bucky been hiding from him?  What else did he refuse to talk about?

“Come on, Bucky.  Lets get you cleaned up.”  Steve said as he approached Bucky just as the other man was straightening up again.  He helped his friend up the steps and into the house, but the pair of them stopped in the kitchen once they both caught sight of Sam sitting at the dinner table drinking a beer and flipping through the newspaper.

“Hey where we--”  Sam stopped mid-sentence the moment his eyes fell on Bucky.

“Well you look like shit.”

“Fuck off, Wilson.”  Bucky croaked as he shuffled back into Steve’s room.

“Well hello to you too, Barnes.”  Sam called after him.

Steve sighed, prying open one of the cabinets to grab an empty glass.  He didn’t want to talk about what he had just witnessed, but he knew Sam would ask.

“Bucky snuck out,”  Steve sighed as he dug through the freezer for some ice.  “He’s been taking _pills_ , Sam.  Before you ask, no, I don’t know how long this has been going on.  I’m scared, Sam; I don’t know what to do.”

The news seemed to hit Sam just as hard as Steve.  He should have seen it coming; they both should have seen it coming.  Everything was going by so _smoothly_ when it shouldn't, but they both figured the hard part was done after they tackled Bucky’s self-harm issue.  It was just lack of communication and understanding and they both realized that this was going to be harder than they thought.   _They should have known_.

“First of all, how do you feel?”  Sam’s voice was calm, and Steve was thankful for it.  It kept his emotions at bay.

“I feel... _lost_.”  Steve sighed as he ran the glass under the tap, filling the glass.

“Anyways, um...I better go check on Bucky.  Can we talk about this later?  I just...he needs me, Sam.”

Sam nodded with a sad smile before Steve turned to head back into his room to take care of Bucky.  The air was unnaturally still the moment Steve pushed open his bedroom door.  For a brief moment, he thought the brunet had snuck out, but he saw a dim light seeping out of the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door and momentarily felt relieved.  That all changed when he heard the sickening sound of Bucky retching, coughing, choking into the toilet.  Steve could feel his own heart aching from the noise, only wanting his friend to get better.  

With a heavy heart and a small frown, Steve approached the door, knocking softly before he announced himself.

“Hey, Buck.  May I come in?”

There was no answer for a few moments.

“Yeah.”  Bucky coughed shakily.

Steve slowly opened the door, only to see Bucky shrinking in on himself the closer he got to him.  He was afraid.  The fear in his eyes only made the blond’s heart ache even more, and he looked down at his friend with sad eyes.

“I-I’m sorry, Steve.”  Bucky’s voice was like gravel, rough and raw from retching.

“I’m not angry.”  Steve kept his voice soft as he slowly knelt down, offering his friend the glass of water.

Bucky gave the glass of water a wary look before he slowly reached out to take it, cautiously bringing it to his lips as Steve backed up, keeping space between Bucky and himself.  The last thing he wanted Bucky to feel was afraid.  He did not want a repeat of what happened last week.

“I’ll be right back, Bucky.  If you need anything, you yell for me, okay?  I’ll just be gone a moment.”  Steve said as he stood up slowly, eyeing the pale, shivering man curled up on the floor sadly before he stepped out to get a blanket.  

Steve yawned as he dug through his bedroom closet for a blanket, his heart aching and heavy as he thought about Bucky and what he was going through.  There was no way he understood what his friend was experiencing, but the only thing he could offer was his support.  Bucky wouldn't be alone this time.  He sighed at the thought as he grabbed a large blanket out of the closet and stepped back into the bathroom.

“Can you read to me, Steve?”  Bucky spoke softly as glassy, dazed eyes slowly moved to look up at Steve.  

“Of course, Bucky.”  The blond said with a sad smile before he briefly stepped out to grab the last Lord of the Rings book off his nightstand.  The moment he returned and sat down on the bathroom floor, Bucky joined him at his side, curling up and pressing against him for warmth as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself.  

Steve read quietly to Bucky, feeling him shiver against his side as he settled in and tried to get comfortable.  He wrapped one arm around the brunet to try and keep him warm, keeping an eye on him to make sure he wouldn't get sick again.  An hour had passed before Steve noticed that Bucky had nodded off, head resting on his shoulder.  This left Steve to mull over everything that happened that night as he read silently, keeping Bucky close to him.

\---

_ **October 13th, 2016** _

_I didn’t want to do it. ~~I didn’t want to~~ Я не хочу, чтобы убить его.  He looked так же, как Стив.  I can’t live with the guilt.  I can’t live with myself knowing that I killed every clone of Steve that Pierce put in front of me.  Я должен был умереть.  I should have taken the bullet._

_The first was the hardest.  I didn’t know his name.  Как его звали?  Did he have a family?  Did he have a best friend?  Was he missed?  I feel sick.  I felt sick when I saw him; a replica of a man I thought I recognized.  Saying the name made everything real, and I didn’t want it to be.  I couldn't kill him. ~~Я не убивал его~~.  Pierce pulled the trigger.  There was so much blood._

_I refused the first few times.  Pierce’s threats were empty, and instead he would tell me this bullshit about the blond man in front of me, already beaten and bloody from the torture the other agents had inflicted on him.  Pierce’s манипуляция was supposed to motivate me.  I was supposed to be his endgame, his judgement day.  After I refused the first few times, the threats grew worse; the threats were no longer lies, but the truth._

_I heard the soft click of a firing pin being pulled back.  Я играл в русскую рулетку с самим дьяволом.  Pierce said I was lucky that the gun he chose was empty.  He told me if I didn’t kill this one, the next gun he picked up would have bullets.  I should have killed Pierce then.  Почему не я?_

_I was subjected to the chair until I could no longer recognize my surroundings and the old man who had given me the orders.  He had an air of authority, so I had to obey.  He brought in another blond man and ordered me to kill him.  I did without question.  He considered that progress.  I don’t know why I killed that man._

_I am still haunted by the things I've done to those blond men, to the families I destroyed.  I would rather be dead, because I do not deserve to breathe this air and walk this earth.  I am the scum of the earth._

_I fear that I am still the angel of death, trying to hold back the urge to kill again._

“Hey, Buck.  What’s this?”  Steve said with an uneasy voice, slowly turning towards Bucky.

Bucky shifted nervously in Steve’s bed, eyes darting up to the blond man standing in front of the desk with his notebook in his hand.  He hadn't left the comfort of the warm sheets, sheets that smelled so much like Steve.  The scent made him feel safe, and it reminded him of something; he wasn't quite sure what it was yet, but he knew it was good.  

“‘s my journal, I guess.  You said that it’s mine now, n’ I could write whatever I wanted.”  Bucky’s voice was small, still hoarse from retching.  Every inch of him ached and he didn’t really want to be having this discussion right now.  He almost regretted leaving his journal out in the open for Steve to read, but this was his way of trying to open up.  He needed to clear his mind, but he didn’t want to talk about it.  Thinking about it still made him feel sick.

“I know that, Buck, but what’s this entry about, exactly?”

“Well, did you read it?”

“Yeah, but…”  Steve’s eyes fell back down to the notebook in his hands, his brow furrowing as he studied the page.  “they made you kill men that looked like me?”

Steve’s gaze shifted back up to Bucky, and he instantly tried to make himself smaller.  He felt guilty, and the guilt made him feel sick.  He could feel the color draining from his face and he quickly looked away from the blond.  He could feel the fear coursing through his veins, thinking Steve would be angry with him or upset with him for what he’d done.  

“Buck?”

“‘re you mad at me, Steve?”  Bucky croaked weakly.

“Why would I be mad?”  Steve’s voice was gentle, and Bucky watched as he inched closer to the bed.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Did you intentionally leave it out for me to read?”

Bucky nodded slowly as Steve approached the edge of the bed, hugging his knees to his chest.  He couldn't make eye contact with Steve, because every time he looked at the blond, he could only see the men he had been ordered to kill and it made him feel sick.

“May I join you, Bucky?”

“Sure.”  Bucky’s voice was shaky, but he slowly moved over so Steve had some room on the bed.  He shut his eyes tight, trying to blink away the memory as he felt the bed dip down when his friend joined his side.

“I don’t know when they started bringing me men that looked like you.  They were always small and sickly looking.  I wanted to fight it; I really did, Steve.  One of them spoke his name before I was ordered to kill him.  None of the other blond-haired men had ever done that before.  Most of them plead for their lives, but it was like he was trying to _befriend_ me.  It was the only kindness I’d seen since the war…”

Bucky could feel the bile churning in his stomach, and he quickly pushed himself off the bed and rushed into the bathroom to throw up.  He still constantly felt sick, and the jitters hadn't gone away just yet.  He couldn't keep a lot of liquids down, but he tried.  He could see the worry and the sadness in Steve’s eyes so he always tried to keep himself hydrated.  

Bucky bit his lip as he stood back up slowly, feeling the room spin with every slight movement.  It didn’t help that everything ached; his joints felt like they were on fire and the migraines hadn't ceased in two days.  He steadied himself against the wall as he slowly dragged his feet back into the bedroom, settling back down on the bed.   

“I couldn't shoot that one.  His name was Thomas; I’m sure he was from the United Kingdom; somewhere from Sheffield by the accent he had.  Pierce shot him before he could get another word out, but I’m sure Thomas would have told me he had a wife and children back home if he continued.  He was so fuckin’ pretty, Steve.  Just like you; big blue eyes full of wonder and stubbornness; ready for a fight.  I just wanted to tell him that everything was gonna be okay.  I just--I wonder what happened to his family, to his friends.  I wonder if they ever got closure…”

Bucky sniffled as Steve pulled him into his arms.  The brunet just buried his face in his friend’s shoulder, trying to hold back the tears.  He couldn't take the pain and the sickness, and remembering Thomas only brought more painful memories.  The only thing that brought him a tiny bit of comfort was the feeling of Steve’s fingers sifting through his messy mop of hair, fingers combing through both the long and short strands gently.

“You did what you had to do to stay alive, Bucky.  I don’t blame you.”

“I blame myself.”  Bucky choked out.

Bucky’s guilt shut Steve right up, and the atmosphere seemed tense for a few minutes.  He could tell that the blond was upset by his words, but it was true.  It was his own fault; he shouldn't have killed all those people.  He should have taken the bullet and died, whether it would have been at the hand of the Russians, or Hydra.

“I blame myself for not catching you when you fell from the train.”  Steve whispered, unable to make eye contact with Bucky when he shifted in bed.

“What?”

“I should have gone looking for you instead of going after Schmidt.”

“N-no, Steve.  You did what you had to do to save the world.  Schmidt would have killed millions more if you hadn't stepped in.”

Steve could only nod, but Bucky could see the guilt in his eyes.  He chewed on his lower lip in thought, his left hand cautiously reaching over to take Steve’s hand in his.  The gears in his fingers slowly whirred into place as he squeezed the blond’s hand gently.  The gentleness not only surprised Steve, but Bucky as well.  He only saw his arm as a weapon, working with precision, but not gentleness, so this was new.  He slowly looked up at Steve to make sure he was okay.

“I know, Bucky...I told you I’d be with you ‘til the end of the line, n’ I thought that was it.  I thought Schmidt was the end of the line.  I didn’t have anything else to live for, so I was reckless.”

“Idiot.  What about Peggy?”  Bucky grunted.

“I loved her, but it wasn't the same.  I didn’t want to live if I didn’t have you by my side,”  Steve sniffled.  

Bucky knew Steve was holding back tears, and he wanted to do something about it, but he could feel himself starting to get sick again.  The last thing he wanted to do at this point was leave Steve’s side, but the sickness was getting to be too much, so he quickly bolted for the bathroom and retched into the sink.

“Bucky?  You okay?”  Steve moved to get out of bed, but Bucky quickly held out his arm, signaling him to stay put.

“‘m okay, Steve.  I’ll be there in a minute.  Jus’ sit back down.”  He grunted before retching into the sink again.  

It took a few minutes for Bucky to recover from his retching fit.  It exhausted him, and it made his body ache even more.  His left arm felt heavier than usual after this bout, so he cradled his arm to his chest as he trudged back into the bedroom.  

“Shoulder hurt?”  

Bucky just nodded at Steve’s question as he sat back down in bed.  

“Here, scooch up a bit.  Let me help you.”

Bucky wasn't sure what Steve was up to, but he slowly obeyed.  He was shaking, feeling nervous as he slowly moved towards the end of the bed.  The mattress dipped down behind him as Steve moved over, and the brunet stiffened the moment he felt fingers grazing over the scars on his shoulder.

“What are you doing, Steve?”  Bucky inhaled sharply the second Steve’s fingers kneaded into his shoulder.

“Giving you a shoulder massage, now loosen up a bit, Buck.  It’s not going to help if you’re so tense.”

Bucky did as he was told, slowly exhaling as he dropped his shoulders and leaned into the touch.  He shut his eyes the moment Steve started kneading his fingers back into his shoulders, trying to work out the knots in his muscles.  A soft groan escaped his lips as Steve’s fingers worked their magic on his shoulders, leaning back into the touch.

“Feeling better?”

“A bit.  Thank you.”  Bucky mumbled as Steve continued.  He could fall asleep like this.  In fact, he wanted to.  He hadn't slept in days and just this brief moment of peace kept his mind at ease.  He let his hair fall into his face as he leaned back into Steve’s arms, causing the blond to stop kneading his fingers into his shoulders.

“Hey, you okay, Buck?”

“Yeah, just getting tired.”

“Want me to stop?”  Steve asked, and Bucky quickly nodded his head.

“Read to me?”  Bucky mumbled, leaning his head back to rest on Steve’s shoulder.

“Sure thing, pal.  Want to try and finish Lord of the Rings tonight?”  Steve asked with a small smile, reaching over to his nightstand to grab a book.  

Bucky nodded and slowly shut his eyes as soon as Steve started reading, letting his imagination take him to Middle Earth.  It calmed him.  For brief moments, he forgot about his past; it was just Steve and him in this magical world.  He loved trying to imagine himself in the setting; wondering what role he would play if he were ever in that situation.  He took a liking to the elves, as they were expert marksmen when it came to using a bow and arrow, and he figured he could work with that.  

Bucky shivered lightly the moment he felt Steve’s fingers brushing against his side, but he quickly relaxed, pressing into the blond’s side like this was something they had done since they were children.  Steve hadn't complained yet, so maybe he was okay with it.  Maybe he wasn't and was too afraid to say something.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hm?”  Steve set his book aside for a moment, glancing down at Bucky.

“You don’t mind me being this close to you, do you?”  

“Of course not, Buck.  As long as you’re comfortable, so am I.”  Steve said with a small smile, hugging Bucky closer to him.

“Maybe I’m a bit too comfortable, Stevie…”  Bucky said as he tried to stifle a yawn, only to pause when he heard Steve’s breath catch in his throat.  At first, he thought the blond was having an asthma attack, but then he realized he hadn't called his best friend that name since the war.

“S-sorry.  I must be tired.  I won’t call you that again.”  Bucky blushed, unable to make eye contact with Steve out of embarrassment.  

“No, it’s fine, Bucky.  You can call me that if you want.”

“O-oh, okay.”  Bucky nodded, trying to distance himself away from Steve, shifting slightly on the bed out of nervousness.  

“Hey, it’s okay.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  Why don’t I finish this chapter and then we can get some rest?”

Bucky nodded uneasily at Steve’s suggestion, cautiously pulling himself closer to the blond as he continued reading.  He yawned again as he shut his eyes, settling back down into a comfortable position.  He listened to Steve’s voice as he was swept away into the battle of Gondor, but even the action and suspense wasn't able to keep him awake after the first few paragraphs.  He slowly started to drift off to sleep; his body pressed gently against Steve’s.

“I love you, Stevie.”  Bucky mumbled sleepily just as he drifted off, not even giving Steve enough time to react to those three words before the sandman came for him.

\---

_ **October 18th, 2016** _

The last few days were quite draining for both of the super-soldiers.  Bucky seemed to have been feeling a bit better; he could finally hold down most liquids and he was able to get around without feeling ill.  Bucky’s recovery was going better than expected, considering the circumstances, but the brunet still had his bad days.  Today was not one of them.

There was a problem, though.  Steve couldn't get those three little words that Bucky had said to him out of his mind.  They raced around his head like flies attracted to a bright light.  He remembered the look on his friend’s face when he said those words; eyes closed, face smooshed against his shoulder, and the words came out more like a sigh than an actual confession should have.  Should he have taken what Bucky had said to heart?  

Steve tried to ignore his thoughts as best as he could, especially today because Sam and Natasha had planned to take them to a baseball game.  It was the playoffs; the Yankees were playing against the Tigers, and Steve thought this would be good for everyone.  A little bit of fresh air and some fun would be a relief from the stress.  

“Do I have to go, Steve?”  Bucky grumbled as he pulled on a leather jacket.

“Yeah, of course!  Don’t worry, Buck.  It’s gonna be fun.  When was the last time you went to a baseball game anyways?”

“Think it was on your birthday in ‘41, or somethin’,”  Bucky shrugged as he grabbed a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses off the dresser.   “Alright.  Lets get this over with.”

“What’s with you, Buck?  You loved baseball.”  

“I do; ‘s just that I don’t wanna ruin the experience for you if I get sick.”

“You won’t ruin anything, Buck.  Whatever happens, I’m sure we’ll still have a bit of fun.”  Steve smiled as he pulled on a jacket.

 _“You two old farts coming sometime today?”_  Natasha called out from the hallway.

“Yeah, just about ready, Nat.”  Steve yelled as he grabbed a baseball cap out of the closet.

_“Well Sam’s warmin’ the car up so speed it up!”_

Steve just smiled and motioned for Bucky to follow him out, meeting Natasha in the foyer.  She greeted them both with a smile before her eyes focused on Bucky.

“Glad you’re feeling well enough to go out today, Buck.”

Steve glanced at Bucky to gauge his response, forcing an apologetic smile.  Bucky just shot back a scowl before shrugging off Nat’s remark.  Of course he talked to Natasha about his friend’s drug problems and withdrawals; he was concerned and needed her input.  He trusted her with that information.  She was the only one who had a past with Bucky besides himself.

“Let’s just get this over with.”  Bucky sighed, grabbing onto Steve’s wrist with his left hand before the two men followed Nat out the door and into the car.  

“Relax, Buck.  Everything’ll be fine.”  Steve whispered, feeling Bucky’s cold, metal thumb pressing into the palm of his hand, circling slowly.  He could see the brunet physically relax, but the tension still lingered in his eyes.  Bucky was on high alert, ready to take out any threat, even in his state.  Steve squeezed the metal hand gently, knowing it wouldn't help any, but it brought himself just a bit of comfort.

Steve held Bucky’s metal hand for the remainder of the trip to the stadium, but the two didn’t leave one another’s side.  They walked to the stadium, shoulders brushing against each other with Sam and Nat tagging behind.  Steve could hear them whispering something to each other underneath their breath, but he wasn't going to ask.  He was enjoying the moment.

Walking into the stadium was like walking back into 1941.  Of course the scenery was different, but the game was still the same.  Just looking out at the field brought back memories to that game Bucky snuck him into on his birthday.  He remembered the smell of dirt mixed with cigar smoke making his lungs ache, _but he loved every second of it_.  He remembered the taste of the cotton candy Bucky had bought him for a nickel; how it melted in his mouth and how he couldn't finish it all before getting sick from all the sugar.  

“Hey, Nat and I are going to get something to eat.  D’you guys want anything before the game starts?” Sam asked as he finished getting settled into his seat.  Natasha was already up and waiting for Sam to follow suit with a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Uh...yeah just get me a coney dog and a beer.  D’you want anything, Buck?”

“Mmm….yeah get me a shake, please.”

“Sure thing.  What kind?”  Sam asked, rifling through his wallet quickly to see if he had enough money.

“Strawberry if they got it.”  Bucky mumbled, slouching down in his chair as he tried to relax.  

“I’ll pay you back later, Sam.  Thanks.”  Steve said with a smile as he watched his friends climb up the stairs towards the concession stands.  He sat back a few seconds later, eyes travelling over the field before he turned to Bucky.

“You remember when I tried playing baseball in fourth grade?”

“Yeah, n’ you broke your arm trying to slide into first base.”  Bucky said with a grin.  

“I thought my ma was gonna kill me.”

“She shoulda.  You were so stubborn about the game.  You begged her to let you play at least one game of baseball.  She said no and you did it anyways.”  Bucky laughed, and his laugh was music to Steve’s ears.  

“The broken arm was worth it.  I totally won us the game.”  Steve smiled.

“Sure ya did, punk.”  Bucky nudged him in the shoulder playfully.

“The bases were loaded!  If I hadn't gotten the hit, we woulda lost and you know it.”

“Pfft!  We had one more inning, but since _you broke your damn arm_ , we had to forfeit and rush you to the hospital.”  Bucky scoffed.

Steve just grinned and rolled his eyes.  Bucky was right, but he wasn't going to admit it.  He just smiled and shot a quick glance to his friend.

“Jerk.”

“Fuckin’ punk.”  Bucky shot back.  

“And you kissed your ma with that mouth.”  Steve smirked.  Now he was just teasing, and Bucky loved every second of it.

“My foul mouth probably made her roll in her grave by now.”  Bucky chuckled.  

“Glad to see you two in better spirits.  Steve, here’s your coney and beer,”  Sam stated  as he returned, handing the blond his food and drink before reaching over to give Bucky his shake.

“And Barnes, they didn’t have strawberry so I got you chocolate.  Hope you don’t mind.”

Barnes instantly shot Sam a glare before he stared down at his cup, swirling the spoon around the thick, cold liquid slowly.

“You know, I could kill you six different ways with this plastic spoon, Wilson,”  Bucky started, pulling the spoon out of the shake and licking it slowly.  His eyes turned to glare at Sam again, his demeanor menacing and cold.  “Get me a goddamn strawberry shake or so help me god this spoon is going straight into your eye socket.”

“Seven if you’re willing to get creative and you have the time.”  Natasha piped up as she sat down in her seat.

The color in Wilson’s face quickly disappeared and he scrambled to go replace Bucky’s shake, but the brunet quickly started laughing.

“I’m kidding, Wilson.  Calm down.”

“Jesus christ, Barnes.  You scared the hell out of me.”  Sam sighed as he sat back down to eat his own food.

“Good.”  Bucky said with a smirk before he turned to his shake, leaving Steve speechless over the whole exchange.  Natasha was even encouraging him.  

The four of them made small talk until the game started a few minutes later, their eyes glued to the field below.  Every once in a while, Steve would catch Bucky grumbling about how the Yankees suck and how he hated that the Dodgers were sold to Los Angeles.  The blond just shot him an understanding smile and by the fourth inning, both teams were pretty much tied up.

The four of them had a blast, and sometimes even participated in whatever wacky event the jumbotron prompted the crowd to do.  Most of the time, Steve would yell about an umpire making a bad call, or Bucky would chuckle at how fast the pitcher threw the ball.  He’d make some smart comments about the speed; _‘I could do ten times better.’, ‘pfft--ninety-seven miles per hour?  That’s nothing.’_  Natasha watched the game quietly, her feet propped up on the empty seats in front of her.

“You know, you’re lucky no one actually got those seats in front of us, Nat.”

“No I’m not.  I bought those seats too.”  the redhead said with a smirk, but her attention soon turned to the jumbotron.  

“Oh, look!  It’s the kiss cam.  I love these things.”  She said with a small laugh.

Steve’s attention soon turned to the big screen, watching as the camera moved around the crowd and settled on one unsuspecting couple after the next, each turning to their partner for a kiss.  

“Aw, how sweet!”  Nat cooed after the first few rounds.  It was all fun and games, and Steve quickly turned to check and see how Bucky was doing.  He didn’t seem to be too into the kiss cam footage on the jumbotron, and neither was Steve.  It wasn't for him, and just seemed like a cheap gimmick to get people to do something they might not want.

“Oh my god!  Steve, James!  Look!”  Natasha called out as she pointed to the jumbotron.  Both men quickly turned their attention to the big screen and their eyes widened, seeing themselves on the screen framed in one big, red heart.  Steve could feel the color draining from his face and quickly glanced at Bucky, who looked just as shocked as he did.

“Um…”  Steve couldn't even breathe.  He was nervous.  Was he supposed to do this?  He could hear the crowd booing at their inaction.   _They wanted them to kiss_.  The thought only made him more nervous.  He eyed Bucky’s mouth and he licked his own lips quickly before looking away.

“No, I’m not doing it.”  Steve mumbled, quickly glancing up at the jumbotron to see that the camera had panned to another couple.  That didn’t ease his worry though, and Bucky was just as tense as Steve was.  It was only made worse when the camera _once again_ moved back to them.  

“What do we do, Steve?”  Bucky hissed under his breath, looking anywhere _but_ at Steve.  The blond could tell that his friend was starting to feel anxious.

“Um...just wait it out, I guess.”  

The camera panned away from them once again and moved on to a few more couples.

“Should I take out the camera man?  I could…”

“No, don’t.”  Steve sighed, knowing that Bucky was getting even more anxious the more time passed.  He could feel Bucky’s right hand gripping onto his wrist tightly, and Steve would comfort his friend if _the camera hadn't panned back over to them_.

Steve blushed.  Something _had_ to be done.  The crowd was booing them for not participating, and he was starting to feel bad about it.  Bucky seemed to have the same idea, and Steve could feel his breath catch in his throat the second his crystal blue eyes met with Bucky’s own electric blue gaze.  

“Buck…”  Their faces were only inches apart, and Steve couldn't bring himself to do anything other than _stare_.  Bucky had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.  He’d always thought that, but never really admitted it to himself.  He stared into those vast, sky blue pools for what seemed like forever, and he was almost afraid to admit that he didn’t want this to end.  

Steve tensed the second he felt a metal hand resting on the back of his neck, pulling him closer.  He could feel Bucky’s breath fanning out against his parted lips, and the only thought racing through the blond’s mind was that he wanted to _taste_ Bucky.  The thought was almost absurd to Steve, _but it wasn't_.  He looked into Bucky’s eyes and he _knew_.  The love he felt for his friend was something _more_ than what normal friends shared, and he had never found the courage to admit it to himself.   _Now was the time._  

All thoughts seemed to cease the second he felt a pair of plush, wet lips pressing against his own.  The pressure against his mouth was gentle, like Bucky was testing the waters before his actions became desperate and sloppy and rushed.  A skillful tongue swiped into his mouth, pushing past his parted lips for a taste, and all Steve could do was hold on, hands gripping onto Bucky’s shoulders as the brunet tried to devour him whole.  

Teeth clashed together and this was _totally not how Steve had wanted to do this_.  It was sloppy, rough, and completely unromantic.  He wanted to pull away; he wanted to rectify it all.  He wanted Bucky to slow down, but his heart rate was picking up and the neurons in his brain were going haywire.  He had no control over himself and he let Bucky take the reigns.  Tongue’s beat chaotically together with no rhythm or purpose, but it all felt so _good_.  Even Bucky’s tongue piercing drove Steve up the wall.

Bucky’s hat had somehow fallen off somewhere along the way, and Steve couldn't stop himself from running his fingers through the long dark locks.  The blond loved the taste of Bucky’s lips, the smell of his skin and the soft brush of stubble against the tip of his nose.  The sensations only made him want more.  He bit back a small moan the second his best friend took his bottom lip between his teeth and tugged before pulling away completely.  It was over just as quickly as it had begun.

“Whoa…”  Sam was the first to speak, his eyes fixed on the two super soldier’s in shock.  Natasha, on the other hand, had a knowing smirk.

Steve was still trying to sort his mind out and put the pieces back together.  Both of their faces were beet red and they couldn't even look at each other.  Bucky actually recoiled from his best friend’s side, choosing to make himself small and trying to put as much distance between Steve and himself as possible without actually bolting from the stadium.  It was almost like Bucky was ashamed, or maybe just nervous about how Steve would react.

“Buck…”  Steve whispered.  He was still trying to find his voice; his lips still stung from the harsh kiss.  He licked them nervously before he slowly turned his gaze back towards Bucky.

“D’you hate me now, Steve?”  Bucky growled, looking down into his lap.  His fingers were tugging at a frayed thread on his jeans nervously and Steve sighed, reaching over to grab his wrist.  Bucky instantly pulled himself away.

“I don’t hate you, Buck.  I never could.”  Steve forced a smile.  “You’re my best friend.”

Yet Steve couldn't admit his feelings to Bucky.  The three words his best friend had whispered as he had fallen asleep suddenly played through his mind like a broken record.  He desperately wanted to hear Bucky say it again.  He wanted nothing more than to tell Bucky how he felt about him, but he was afraid.  He swallowed hard, looking away briefly before Bucky spoke again.

“Don’t know why I’m your best friend; I don’t deserve you.”

“Stop talking like that, Buck.  What happened to you in your past won’t push me away, so stop trying to get me to leave.”  Steve spoke sadly, reaching back over to grab onto Bucky’s wrist.  This time, he didn’t move away.

“All I want to do is understand you and help you,”  Steve squeezed Bucky’s wrist gently.

Bucky just nodded, slowly turning to look at Steve.

“Thank you, Steve.”  Bucky mumbled.

“We’ll talk about this later, okay?  Lets just try and enjoy the game.”  Steve continued before his eyes focused on the field.  Bucky did just the same, but not before shifting uneasily in his seat.  

The game seemed to drag on after the incident, and Steve barely focused on what the players were doing.  His mind was still playing those words like a broken record, paired with the memory of Bucky’s lips moving against his.  When the game was over, his feet moved on their own accord, blindly following his friends while Bucky held onto his wrist for comfort.  Steve could hear his mind screaming at him to tell Bucky how he felt, how he wanted to kiss Bucky’s lips and taste him, yet he didn’t have the courage to do any of that.

So Steve sat in silence for the rest of the evening, only going through the motions of making dinner and getting ready for bed while his mind kept him distracted.  His thoughts kept him awake when he tried to settle in for bed, but the only thing that brought him comfort was Bucky, who had decided to join him at his side.  Steve drew the other man close to him, letting the brunet use his shoulder as a pillow.  The cold metal of his left arm was draped over his abdomen almost protectively and Steve watched as Bucky drifted off without a word a few minutes later.  

There were a few times in his life where Steve felt alone; his life before Bucky, the days after he woke up from his seventy year sleep, and tonight.  He had his best friend right by his side, pressed close and safe, yet he was alone with his feelings.  He didn’t know how his friend felt, and he was sitting on the mountain of words he wanted to say to Bucky yet couldn't.  He couldn't find the strength or the courage to do so, and it terrified him.  Unable to sleep, he let his mind stew in the mess of feelings and memories as Bucky slumbered peacefully at his side.  

\---

_ **October 21st, 2016** _

“Lets go look for an apartment today.”

Those were the first words out of Steve's mouth that morning.  Bucky was in the middle of eating his cereal and reading the funnies when the blond made that suggestion, and it made him stop what he was doing and glance up at his friend.

“Uh...okay, sure?  Sounds good.  How’re we gonna go about doing that?”  Bucky croaked tiredly before he went back to eating his cereal.

“Well I’m sure the newspaper has a few listings.  We can start there.”  Steve suggested as he took a bite of toast.

“Hey!  I was reading that!”  Bucky hissed the second Steve swiped the newspaper out of his hands and flipped through the pages quickly.  The brunet watched as his friend skimmed through the listings, worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

“Hey, they've got a few in Brooklyn, Buck.  You interested in looking at those today?”

“Sure, as long as I can get back to finishing these comics.”  Bucky scowled as he reached for the newspaper again.

“Well you better be ready in an hour,” Steve said as he gave Bucky a hopeful smile before walking off to get dressed.  

It was like the kiss at the baseball game hadn't even happened.  The blond hadn't even brought it up since the game, and Bucky was too afraid to mention it.  So Bucky kept quiet, left to think about that kiss, letting it play over and over in his mind.  It was one of the only good things he could hold onto and keep.  

Bucky went through the rest of his morning routine thinking about the way Steve’s lips felt against his and how he tasted.  Everything was put on automatic until he found himself at Steve’s side, ready to look at apartments.  Then his nerves set in.  He wanted to ask about the kiss, but he was too afraid Steve would be angry with him.  He didn’t want to ruin this moment with Steve, so he followed his friend out of the house and hopped on the Harley without a word.

The first apartment they viewed was _terrible_.  Steve didn’t see much wrong with it, but Bucky was not pleased one bit.

“The lock on the front door needs to be replaced, Steve.  I could pick that thing with my eyes shut.  Don’t even get me started on the windows.”  Bucky hissed under his breath as they walked out, and it was on to the next one.

Each apartment they visited seemed to disappoint Bucky more than the last, finding flaws in just about every building they visited.  He’d point out problematic neighbors or some fault in the building’s structure and Steve just gave the manager an apologetic smile.  The blond was patient, never arguing with Bucky over whether he was right or wrong about something.  He just listened and then thanked the apartment manager before they both left to find another apartment.

After the sixth apartment viewing, Bucky was feeling exhausted.  He wanted this to be over, but none of the apartments were built to his satisfaction and Steve was determined to find something.  They even skipped lunch just so they could finish their apartment search.  He forced a small smile when the two of them approached a rather familiar looking building.  It was right next to the Brooklyn bridge and a little bit of familiarity brought him some relief.

Once the two of them were shown the apartment, Bucky’s eyes lit up.  He wasn't listening to what the manager had to say about the apartment features, his feet just automatically moved him towards the windows, where he had a perfect view of the Brooklyn Bridge.  Steve seemed to have the same idea, and as soon as Bucky could tear his eyes away from the view, he turned to smile softly at Steve.

“This is it; I can feel it.”

“You can, huh?”

“Yeah, just reminds me of home.  It feels safe.”  Bucky started to wander around the main room as he said it, completely ignoring the apartment manager.

“Well why don’t we let the apartment manager tell us a bit more about the place and show us around before we go make assumptions?”  Steve suggested with a smile.

They did just that; following the man around the small apartment and letting him show them the features.  The whole building had recently been remodeled, even though it was built in 1909.  They kept some of the original features, mostly the pipes in the ceilings and the brickwork, but it was tasteful.  The windows were small but let in just enough light to brighten the place up.

The kitchen was small but practical; nothing too complicated.  Bucky liked the little built-in breakfast bar.  The two bedrooms were just as small, but Bucky liked it that way.  The both of them didn’t need a big space to be happy, and he could see himself living comfortably in this building.  Steve seemed to have the same idea; there was nothing either of them could say about the space that made them want to turn it down.

“So what do you guys think?  Are you interested?”  The manager said after he finished his tour.

“What do you thi--”

“We’ll take it.”  Bucky blurted out, not even giving Steve the chance to finish his question.

It was that easy.  Soon they were in the office filling out paperwork and talking about a move-in date.  Steve wanted to move in by the first of the month, and Bucky couldn't argue with that.  He just wanted out of the safe house as soon as possible.  He needed something to call his own, a place where he could really call home.

“Alright, well I just have to run a few checks before I can approve you two, but I’ll call you within the week to tell you guys how things are going and if you've been approved.”  The apartment manager stated, looking through the finished paperwork that both men handed over.

“Alright, that sounds good.  Thank you.”

“Do either of you have any questions before I turn you loose?”

“No, I think I’m satisfied.  What about you, Buck?”

“Yeah, I’m good.  Thank you.”

“Alright, well I’ll get in touch with you two soon.  I hope you two have a nice day!”  The manager said as he reached out for a handshake.  Both of them shook the other man’s hand in a friendly gesture before walking out of the office and out into the streets.

“Didn't that used to be the apartment building where Gretta used to live?”

“Ah yeah, I remember her.  She slapped you well into next week after you broke up with her.  Think you were seeing her best friend at the same time...”  Steve grinned.

“Hm...well I couldn't please everyone.”  Bucky said with a shrug before he reached over to grab onto Steve’s wrist.

“I’m hungry.  What d’you say we head out for some dinner?  Think you wanna try some solid foods now?”

Bucky nodded nervously but followed Steve back to the Harley, grabbing onto Steve’s hips once he mounted the bike.  

“What d’you got in mind, Steve?”

“Well there’s this sub shop just a few blocks down that you used to go to all the time.  You remember DeFonte’s, right?”  Steve said as the Harley roared to life.

“It’s still around?”

“Yeah, figured we could check it out.”  Steve said as he sped off.

Bucky couldn't hold back a small smile.  He remembered coming home from work exhausted, but if he had the money, he would stop at DeFonte’s for a sub that he’d split with Steve.  The blond always looked forward to Bucky coming home with one of DeFonte’s subs and Bucky loved seeing that grin on his face.

Once Steve pulled into a parking lot and parked, they both dismounted; Bucky followed the blond into the small, familiar shop with a weak smile as they approached the counter to place an order.  His eyes quickly scanned over the menu before he decided on something he wanted before glancing over at Steve.  

“What can I get for you two gentleman?”  a man asked in a heavy italian accent.

Steve gave the man a polite smile before he listed off what he wanted before the man turned to him.  Bucky nervously gave the man his order and watched as he got to work.  It didn’t take long for their food to be ready, and they both filed down the line with their trays so Steve could pay.  Bucky was actually feeling quite anxious about trying solid foods again, but his stomach was begging for food, and the shakes just weren't cutting it for him.

Bucky followed Steve over to an empty table and sat down, eyeing the sub on his tray.  He unwrapped it cautiously, mouth watering at the sight.  He licked his lips before he took the sandwich in his hands and slowly brought it up to his mouth, taking a bite almost instantly.  It was like he was taking a bite into history.  It tasted just like the subs he used to buy after a hard days work at the docks.  He wanted to cry, and Steve must have noticed the look on Bucky’s face, because that punk had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, like this experience Bucky was having now was the highlight of his life.  It just made the brunet want to smack Steve upside the head.  In fact, he did just that, left hand reaching over to teach the blond a lesson.

“Ow!  Buck!  Quit bein’ a jerk.”

“Then quit starin’ and eat your goddamn sandwich, Steve.”  Bucky scoffed as he swallowed his first bite.  So far, things were going well.  His stomach wasn't rejecting the food, so he opted to try another bite. It was slow going; there were moments where he felt ill or felt that he was eating too much, but Steve urged him to take his time.  They were in no rush to head home.  

So Bucky ate slowly, picking at his sandwich until he knew he couldn't handle more.  Steve suggested that he could wrap it up and take it home for later, so he did just that before the two of them left for the safe house.  

The rest of the night was uneventful.  Bucky decided to turn in early, peeling off his clothes before he flopped down on Steve’s bed.  He hugged his pillow to his chest, sprawled out like a lion and for once, he felt content.  The memories of his past were still haunting his mind, but he tried to ignore it, because for once, he was left alone.  Steve wasn't worrying about him; hovering over him like a worried parent trying to figure out what to do to make things right, yet his mind still brought up horrible memories.

Unable to sleep, he turned to his notebook.  Grabbing a pen off the nightstand, he quickly started jotting down his thoughts.

_Things I love about Steve:_

Bucky realized he had never really given much thought to the word ‘love’.  He knew he loved Steve since as far back as he could remember, but he knew there was that vast, blank void where whatever emotions he felt weren't his own.  He wondered when the word ‘love’ came back into play again, and when it actually started to _mean_ something.  He felt love before he felt happiness; happiness was still foreign to him.

Bucky rubbed at his eyes briefly before he glanced back down at his notebook, pressing his lips into a hard line.

_I love his eyes.  I remember a kid named Ralphie gave him two black eyes in the schoolyard when he was eleven.  He could barely see, but I remember those two bright blue eyes in a sea of black and purple squinting up at me with a look of triumph and I knew this kid would be my best friend for the rest of my life._

_I love his smile.  He doesn't smile as much as he used to.  I wish he did.  I miss it._

> _Миссия: Получить Стива больше улыбаться._

_I remember a bar, standing at Steve’s side, telling him that I was following the kid from Brooklyn.  I’m still following him.  I always want to follow him, because he’s all that I've known.  I didn’t know what happiness was until I knew him.  I want to get to know him again, better than I knew him before.  Maybe then, I’ll figure out what happiness is._

_One thing I regret: not kissing him before I shipped out to war.  God, I should have.  I wanted to.  I would have let him beat me up for it too if he wasn't into that sort of thing.  I don’t know why he didn’t sucker punch me at the game.  I probably deserve it._

_I’ll have to worry about that another time._

Bucky quickly shut his notebook the second Steve walked into the bedroom looking like he was about ready for bed.  The brunet watched as his friend eyed the notebook briefly before he yawned, pulling off his t-shirt unceremoniously.  He saw the look of curiosity in those sparkling blue eyes, but knew that he wouldn't ask what he was writing out of respect.

“Hey, you okay?”  Steve asked.

“Yeah.  My mind just won’t let me sleep tonight.”  Bucky mumbled, setting his notebook aside.

“Well I think we just have the epilogue of Lord of the Rings left to read.  Shall we finish that?”  Steve suggested as he slipped into bed, grabbing the book off his nightstand.

Bucky nodded, slowly pressing into Steve’s side as they both got comfortable.  The brunet listened as the man at his side started to read, and the story instantly put his mind at ease.  He was placed back in Middle Earth, and everything was right.  The ring was destroyed and Aragorn was about to be crowned King of Gondor.  Maybe Steve and him would have a happy ending like that.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian Translations:  
> I didn’t want to kill him.  
> Just like Steve  
> I should have died.  
> What was his name?  
> Manipulation  
> I was playing russian roulette with the devil himself.  
> Why didn’t I  
> Mission: Get Steve to smile more  
> I really love this artwork and it's how I've always imagined Bucky and Steve sleeping together.  
> 
> 
> Thank you to [this lovely artist](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com/) for letting me use this artwork! Also, big thanks to [Sarah](http://lovealetterbomb.tumblr.com/) for editing this chapter for me!
> 
> I apologize for the 4 month delay in updating this story. I recently got a job and a boyfriend and they have been taking up a lot of my time! I will continue to be writing this fic, but the updates might take a bit longer.


	4. I Couldn't Forget You if I Tried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's still trying to find ways to cope with his past and the demons that haunt him with every step. He's finally allowing Steve to help and support him as he attempts to open up about what it was like to walk in the Winter Soldier's shoes. Steve's also struggling to deal with his own demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You killed what was left of the good in me,_   
>  _I'm tired so let me be broken._   
>  _Look down at the mess that's in front of me_   
>  _No other words need be spoken_   
>  _And I've got nobody else to blame though I tried_   
>  _Kept all of my past mistakes held inside_   
>  _I'll live with regret for my whole life_

_ **November 3rd, 2016** _

Day three of moving day.  It was exciting for both Bucky and Steve; they both finally had a place to call their own.  Once they learned that they were approved for the apartment they wanted, Steve took Bucky out to look for furniture.  Their tastes were simple, practical and very classic, but it felt like home.  It was familiar.

Sam and Natasha had been helping them move, but he wasn't much use to them now that Bucky was safe and Steve could handle the issues.  They helped them both assemble their furniture and move the piano on day two before Sam left for DC and Natasha departed shortly after, wishing them both luck.  Steve promised Wilson that he’d visit every weekend; he just needed a change of scenery.  The streets of Brooklyn were his home, his old stomping grounds and all he wanted was to see Bucky comfortable and happy again.

Today was no different.  They were pretty much moved in.  All the big, essential furniture was put together and put in their designated areas.  Even the piano had it’s own little spot, tucked away in the corner by the window.  They didn't have a bed the first night, but Bucky and Steve made the best of it.  They built a nest out of blankets and pillows and slept on the floor, as Bucky insisted that they sleep in the apartment on the first day.  Even though Bucky would have his own bedroom, Steve was sure that it wouldn't ever get used.  At least, not until he felt comfortable on his own.

They ate takeout the first few nights, not having the time to actually stock the fridge and the cupboards, but on day three, Steve gave Bucky the responsibility of neatening up the place while he went out to get groceries and other basic necessities.  The one thing Steve had been meaning to get Bucky was a phone.  It was just the two of them now, so the blond figured that if Bucky needed anything, or if something happened while either of them were out, he could call.

It took a few hours for Steve to finish the errands.  His first order of business was getting Bucky a phone, and the rest was easy.  Groceries and cleaning supplies were the only other important things they needed.

After all the errands were done, Steve was exhausted.  He had filled a taxi cab’s trunk to the brim with groceries, and he was already on his way back to the apartment.  All he wanted to do was sit back, relax and spend some time with Bucky.  His mind started to wander as he stared out the window, eyes not really focusing on anything.  He thought about that kiss at the baseball game and how he wanted more; how he wished the circumstances were different.  Maybe now was the time to talk to Bucky about it.

As soon as the taxi pulled up to his apartment building, Steve climbed out, grabbing as many bags as he could while the cab driver grabbed the rest.  He made small-talk with the driver as they entered the building and headed up to the apartment.

Unloading was going to be the hard part, but Steve stopped in his tracks as soon as he pushed open the door to the apartment.  His eyes widened the second he saw Bucky dancing around the apartment in a pair of his old sweat pants and nothing else, swaying his hips to the beat of a song he couldn't recognize.

_And I can't take one more moment of this silence…_

This was the cab driver’s cue to leave, and Steve quickly paid, telling the man that he could leave the bags at the door and he’d take care of it before he turned back to look at Bucky.  He had started growing out his chest hair again and Steve’s pupils dilated at the sight.  All he wanted to do was _touch_.  The brunet didn't even notice, or he did and didn’t care.  If he knew Steve was standing in the doorway and didn’t care, that meant Bucky trusted him.  He swallowed hard, slowly gathering up his bags again before he stepped inside.  

_The loneliness is haunting me…_

The song wasn't his cup of tea, but Steve decided not to ask Bucky how he discovered it until later.  He quietly put away the groceries that needed to be refrigerated, mind still buzzing about that kiss and the things he wanted to do to Bucky now.  He had sat on it long enough; the rest of the groceries could wait.

_And the weight of the world’s getting harder to hold up…_

“Um...Bucky?  Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Bucky stopped dancing, eyes suddenly losing their liveliness for a brief moment before he turned to Steve.

“Yeah, sure.  What’s up?”  Bucky sounded chipper, almost happy.  A genuine smile almost threatened to show on his face and Steve prayed to god that he would see it again someday.

_It comes in waves, I close my eyes…_

“I um...wanted to talk to you about that kiss.”  Steve watched as Bucky’s eyes widened when he brought up that particular event.  He blushed, trying to bite back a smile as he slowly approached the brunet.  He could feel the tension in the air the closer he got, and he hoped Bucky wouldn't run away from him now.

“Y-yeah, what about it?”  Bucky asked, shifting nervously on the balls of his feet.  He could no longer make eye contact with Steve.

_Hold my breath and let it bury me…_

“Well um...I was wondering if we could have a do-over?”

“What?”  Bucky’s voice was filled with disbelief at this point, and Steve didn’t blame him.

“Well it’s not how I wanted our first kiss to go.”  Steve blushed, quickly looking down at his feet.  He shouldn't be shy about this, but he couldn’t help but feel butterflies.  He’d been sitting on this long enough; hiding it for longer, not opening up for fear of losing his best friend.  The butterflies stopped the second he felt Bucky’s hands on his face, forcing him to look back into the brunet’s eyes.

_I’m not okay, and it’s not alright…_

The way Bucky was looking at him made Steve’s breath catch in his throat.  The pain and fear those bright blue eyes held had diminished; barely visible in this moment.  The gaze held a history of trauma, battle, war, laughing and drinking with friends, dancing and making out with beautiful dames in back alleys.

“Then how did you want it to go, Stevie?”  Bucky’s voice came out in a whisper, and Steve could feel his heart rate picking up the moment the brunet stepped closer.  He could feel the heat radiating off his friend’s torso, and he only wanted to get closer.

_Won’t you drain the lake and bring me home again?_

This was now or never.  Bucky kept his distance, waiting patiently for Steve to close the space between them and make the first move.  He licked his lips, looking down at his feet briefly, trying to calm his nerves.  He’d kissed people before; Hell, he kissed Bucky before, but this was different.  He wanted this to mean something, yet all of a sudden he didn't have the guts to go through with it.

_Who will fix me now?  Dive in when I’m down?_

“What’re you waitin’ for, Steve?  Christmas?”  Bucky mumbled, the metal thumb on his left hand ghosting over the blond’s jawline.  

The touch sent chills down Steve’s spine, and he slowly moved forward, lips barely brushing against Bucky’s.  The butterflies fluttering around in the pit of his stomach stopped almost instantly and without a second thought, the blond tangled his fingers in Bucky’s hair and kissed him like he had wanted to the first time.  They were completely in sync, their lips moving together like they were made for each other.  

_Save me from myself…_

Steve pulled Bucky closer to him as their lips parted, tongues slowly moving together, tasting each other.  The more the blond explored, tasted and touched, the more desperate Bucky became.  A broad chest pressed against his own as the brunet pulled him closer, tongue licking languidly into his mouth, his tongue piercing slowly teasing his lower lip.  Bucky was all lean muscle and bones aside from the bulky metal arm, and Steve took his time mapping out each and every fine detail with one hand, while the other had a firm hold on the back of Bucky’s neck.

_Don’t let me drown._

Steve pulled Bucky closer to him, tongue swiping into his mouth as the brunet hummed contently against his lips.  He could feel his own heart beating rapidly in his chest, his head swimming with emotion as he crowded Bucky up against a wall.  He felt overwhelmed, but he wanted so much more.

_Who will make me fight?_

Steve broke away from Bucky’s lips briefly, eyes fluttering open to meet Bucky’s darkened gaze.  His cheeks were flushed and his lips were beet red.  Steve just wanted to taste them again.  He shivered the moment he felt Bucky’s metal hand sliding to the back of his neck.

“Steve…”  Bucky whispered breathlessly before he closed the distance between them, taking control of the situation.  

A soft groan escaped Steve’s lips the second he felt his back pressing up against the wall and hips slowly moving against his own.  The brunet swiped his tongue against Steve’s lips, drawing out a sigh as he pressed into the kiss, his tongue slowly moving against Bucky’s.  He froze the second he felt tears running down his friend’s face, but Bucky continued to kiss him, pressing into him like he _needed_ Steve.  

_Drag me out alive?_

“Buck…”  Steve mumbled breathlessly against Bucky’s lips.

“Don’t stop, Stevie…”  Bucky choked out against his lips, pressing feverish, needy kisses against his mouth.

Steve needed to stop though.  This was too much for him all in one day.  He felt overwhelmed and something was wrong.  Bucky was crying.  The blond quickly wiped away his friend’s tears, pressing quick, chaste kisses against his lips before he slowly pulled away.

“N-no, Steve.  Don’t stop, please.  I-I need this.”  Bucky sniffled, leaning back up to press another kiss to Steve’s lips.

_Save me from myself..._

“Buck, look at me.”  Steve whispered before Bucky could cut him off with another kiss.  Puffy red eyes slowly met his own gentle gaze and Steve quickly wiped away the remaining tears threatening to spill.

“Why do you need this?  What’s wrong?”  Steve whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth.  He could feel the brunet shaking underneath his fingertips, and he saw a mountain of emotions behind those bright blue eyes as he pulled away.

_Don’t let me drown…_

“Y-you’re the only thing in my life that makes me feel good a-and I-I’m afraid…”  Bucky’s voice was shaky, and more tears threatened to spill down his cheeks but Steve quickly wiped them away.

“Afraid of what?”  Steve kept his voice steady as he spoke, not wanting to frighten Bucky even more.

“Of hurting you.”  Bucky sniffled, quickly looking away.  He tried to back away, but Steve kept a firm hold on him.

_What doesn't destroy you..._

“You won’t hurt me, Buck.  I trust you.”  Steve whispered, not giving Bucky enough time to respond before he pressed his lips against the brunet’s, tongue licking its way into his mouth slowly.  The kiss was a promise, like he was trying to say ‘ _You could never hurt me_.’  He desperately wanted to say more, to tell Bucky that he loved him, that he cared and nothing would change that.  Instead, Steve tried to portray those feelings through their kiss, fingers tangling in Bucky’s hair as their tongues danced together in perfect sync with each other.

Bucky’s tears were a constant now, but at least they were controlled.  He wasn't ugly crying into Steve’s mouth, sobbing and shaking from whatever emotion he was feeling.  This felt more like relief.  Bucky’s body was pressed flush against Steve’s, as if he couldn't get enough of the blond.  He could feel the bulge in the brunet’s jeans pressing against his hip, and that’s when Steve decided that he needed a breather.

_Leaves you broken instead..._

“I...mmph...I got somethin’--”  Steve mumbled between kisses. “--for you, Buck.”

“Can I just find out what it is later and keep kissing you, Steve?”  Bucky whispered before he pressed another feverish kiss to the blond’s lips.

“Why don’t you find out what it is now and you can kiss me later?”  Steve said with a small smile, pecking the corner of the brunet’s mouth gently as he steered Bucky over to the kitchen carefully.

“But I like kissing you.”  Bucky whined as his back slowly pressed into the edge of the kitchen counter.  His crystal-blue eyes never left Steve’s steady gaze, lips ghosting over his jawline.

_Got a hole in my soul growing deeper and deeper..._

“Good.  That’s good, Bucky.  I like kissing you too,”  Steve’s smile widened as he planted another gentle kiss on Bucky’s lips, letting his mouth linger for a few moments.  “You can kiss me anytime you want, Buck, but right now, I need to put the rest of the groceries away.”

“May I help?”  Since they had moved into their new place, Bucky was always asking Steve if he could help with something, and he was more than happy to oblige.  

“Sure, Buck.”  Steve smiled as he started digging through the bags of groceries, putting away boxes of cereal and cans of soup in their rightful place.  Bucky followed Steve’s lead, digging through bags and putting things away.  Eventually, he came to one small bag and he quickly dug out the small, rectangular box.

_And I can't take..._

“What’s this, Steve?”  

The blond quickly turned to see what Bucky had in his hand.

“Oh, ‘s a cell phone.  Figured that since we’ve got our own place, you could have your own phone in case you need anything.  Go ahead and open it, Buck.”

_One more moment of this silence..._

Steve watched as Bucky did just that, slowly prying open the box and fishing the electronic device out of its protective casing.

“Sam’s, Natasha’s and my number is programmed into your phone already, so if you need to talk to either of them about something, you can give them a call.”  Steve shrugged as he finished putting away the rest of the groceries.  He soon joined Bucky’s side, watching as he quickly figured out how to turn his cell phone on.

_The loneliness is haunting me..._

“You could always pick up on things quickly, Buck.  Glad I don’t need to explain much to you.”

“Well I figured out the password to get into your laptop fairly easy, n’ it’s not like Hydra kept me out of the loop with this new technology.  The perfect weapon had to adapt, ya know.”

Steve frowned when he saw the sad smile on Bucky’s rough features and quickly drew the man into his arms, hugging him close.

_And the weight of the world’s getting harder to hold up..._

“You’re not a weapon, Bucky.  You’re a human being, and my best friend.  You know,”  Steve said as he reached for Bucky’s left hand, bringing it up to his lips.  He slowly kissed each and every digit, blue eyes slowly meeting Bucky’s saddened gaze.  “You can do so much more with this hand than what Hydra used it for.”

Steve smiled when Bucky slowly closed his metal fingers around his hand, squeezing gently.  The blond saw trust in those sad blue eyes, and he just leaned down, pressing another kiss to the metal knuckles on Bucky’s left hand.  This was Steve’s way of telling Bucky that no matter what Bucky went through, he’d stick by his side.

“How do you go about your day not thinking about the people you hurt or killed to get to where you are today?  How do you live with the guilt?”  Bucky whispered, tears suddenly filling his eyes.  The question was for himself, not for Steve.  Bucky needed a way to cope.

“Kiss me,”  Steve whispered a few moments later.  It was the only thing he could think of that would distract Bucky from his guilt.  It wouldn't fix the problem, but it would delay the pain the problem caused.  

Steve sighed the second he felt Bucky’s lips brushing against his.  It was almost like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.  The tension in the room dissipated immediately and the blond instinctively drew the other man closer to him, pressing into the kiss.  He wasn't exactly sure how they had managed to find their way to the couch, but Steve wasn’t complaining.  

The two of them spent the rest of the day lazing around the apartment either watching television, listening to music (mostly Bucky’s own musical discoveries), or preparing some sort of food, but every once in a while, Bucky would interrupt Steve with a kiss.  And sometimes that little interruption would last seconds, and other times a good half-hour, with fingers tangling in each other’s hair and hands grasping blindly at each other.  This was Bucky’s way of coping with his guilt, and Steve was happy to help.

Steve knew that kissing Bucky was going to be a regular thing.  There was no whispered confessions of ‘ _I love you_ ’ or emotional attachment involved in these actions.  Maybe there would be one day, but Steve was content with this situation.  He let Bucky initiate each kiss and take control; this was Steve’s way of showing trust.

“Steve, why didn't you tell me that we could learn elvish?”  Bucky asked that night as he flipped through the final Lord of the Rings book.

“D’you wanna learn it, Buck?”  Steve asked as he got ready for bed.  Bucky was already in bed, his back leaning against the headboard, his nose already buried in the book.

“‘s what I’m doin’ now, punk.  C’mere so you can learn too.”

Steve just smiled softly before he made his way over to the bed, settling down on the mattress next to Bucky.  This time, it was the brunet’s turn to read to him, and Steve listened intently to the rough timbre in his best friend’s voice as he read to him.  It was relaxing, but Bucky’s voice was like gravel, deep and grating and it sounded _perfect_.  

The two men fell asleep shortly after, book still partially open in Bucky’s lap.  Steve’s face was buried in Bucky’s neck, pressing close for warmth.  An arm was draped around Steve’s hips almost possessively, as if Bucky were claiming the blond as his own.  They were content like this; safe in each others arms.  

\---

_ **November 7th, 2016** _

**CRASH!**   _Thwack! **Thud!**_

An uncontrollable anger tore through Bucky’s whole body like wildfire.  So many questions were racing through his cluttered mind that putting them down on paper just wouldn't suffice.  It wouldn’t fix anything.  It wouldn't get rid of the anger.

_How could they?_

How could an organization be so cruel as to make the perfect weapon out of a human being?  How could a secret organization built on the greater good _not notice that another terrible organization was growing right under their noses?_  How could no one have noticed or cared about him?

Bucky threw plates; he embedded silverware into the brickwork of their apartment.  He smashed picture frames, releasing all the pent-up rage from the sudden realization that _none of this was his fault._  He had no control over his actions, _yet he still felt the guilt_.  He could hear his neighbors banging on the wall, yelling at him to keep it down.  Bucky just screamed back, yanking at his hair through choked out sobs and uncontrolled breathing.  

This all happened before Steve could even get to him.  Bucky knew the noise would wake the blond up; he knew the neighbors might call the police.  Time seemed to slow down, but all he could see was anger.  He couldn't see the destruction.  He clenched his hands into fists, about to throw a lamp at the wall when he felt strong hands gripping his shoulders, spinning him around.

“Bucky, stop!”

The brunet froze up, blue eyes meeting Steve’s worried gaze as he dropped the lamp without a second thought.  It took him a few minutes to gather his thoughts before he opened his mouth to speak.

“How could so many people be okay with turning me into a weapon?”  Bucky hissed through gritted teeth moments later, right hand shaking.

“Did no one care that I was in pain?”

“Buck…”  Steve’s voice came out as a whisper, choking back the sadness that threatened to show on his face.

“I had half an arm when I fell and the goddamn Russians chopped the rest off, Steve!  I was awake!”  Bucky yelled through sobs.  The air seemed to still at that confession.  Both men ignored the pounding on the walls from their angry neighbors.

Bucky remembered the Russian doctor with the deep, sharp accent and the kind eyes.  His voice was calming, and he remembered lying on the table, his stump of an arm throbbing and he wanted to scream in pain.  He couldn't even describe the pain, he just wanted it to go away.  

_“Focus…”_

_His eyes fixed on the ring the doctor was shifting around on his finger, vision blurry from the tears but he tried his best.  He said he could take the pain away._

_“Take me back to a time when you were happy, Soldier…”_

_Happy?  What the fuck was that?  All he could feel was pain._

_Focus._

_The soldier shut his eyes, trying to remember something that made him happy._

_“I don’t remember.”_

_“Focus, Soldier…”  the voice spoke, patient and kind._

_He tried again.  He remembered fireworks, and sitting on a hilltop between a few trees.  Someone was sitting next to him, and he could vaguely make out the features.  The person was small, rail-thin and almost sickly-looking, like they had just gotten over the flu.  Definitely male; he remembered it being a special day for the person sitting on his left.  Was it his birthday?_

_Steve…_

“HOW COULD THOSE DOCTORS BE OKAY WITH THIS?”  Bucky screamed as he motioned towards his left arm.  

Steve was at a loss for words, standing a foot away, face frozen in an emotion Bucky couldn't quite place.  Shock?  Sadness?  Fury?  Bucky swallowed hard, kicking the lamp aside as he started to pace the floor, hands in his hair.

“I want to find the men that did this to me; the ones that are still alive, and kill them.  I want to show them what kind of pain I had to endure to be their fucking _puppet_ , Steve.  I want them to feel the same things I felt when they fucking ripped what was left of me out and put something else in.”  Bucky shook from the anger, breath quick and unsteady as he collapsed onto his knees.

Bucky was feeling dizzy; he couldn't control his breathing.  He was too angry to calm down, but he froze when he felt a strong hand pressing against his chest.  Everything else was a blur; fading into a black void that swallowed him whole.  He slumped down in Steve’s arms, completely out for the count.

***

By the time Bucky regained consciousness, Steve had placed him on his bed and was across the room, connecting some sort of device to their television.  He rubbed at his eyes slowly before brushing some stray strands of hair out of his eyes.

“What’re you doin’, Stevie?”  Bucky mumbled, a permanent scowl fixed on his face.

“Hooking up a playstation 4 and getting it set up.”

“What’s it do, n’ how long was I out?”  Bucky asked as he sat up a bit straighter, intently watching Steve plugging things into the television.

“About thirty minutes.  Sam suggested getting one of these things to play games on.  He said it might relieve some stress or anger, n’ figured you might like this.”  Steve said as he tossed a game over to Bucky.

“Hm...Call of Duty?  Seems right down my alley then.”  Bucky grunted and tossed the game back to Steve just as he finished setting up the gaming system.  He watched as the blond placed the disc into the device and grabbed the controllers.  Bucky reluctantly grabbed the controller Steve offered him, drawing his knees up to his chest as his eyes focused on the television screen.

“If you don’t feel comfortable at all playing this, just say so, okay?  We can stop.” Bucky nodded as Steve navigated through the home screen, biting the inside of his cheek in concentration.

Soon, the two of them were navigating through the tutorial screen.  It took a few minutes for them to get used to the layout, but after about ten minutes, they were getting pretty good at it.  Bucky was exceptional at the long-distance shots, taking his time to pick out each target while Steve tackled the close-range targets.  

The sound of gunshots and grenade blasts echoed throughout the bedroom, and Bucky was actually having a great time.  He could easily navigate through the maps and the terrain, always picking the highest points before he took aim and fired.  Steve was always close; he made sure of it.  The enemies swarmed around the blond and Bucky picked them off one by one.  

Eventually, the two super-soldiers decided to venture into a ‘team deathmatch’.  They were paired up with ten other players, and Bucky instantly went to find higher ground the second the game counted them off.  He put his skills to good use, taking out nearly every player on the other team flawlessly, only moving when his position was compromised.  His movements were just as calculated in-game as they were in real life.  

Steve, on the other hand, was on the front lines, sprinting and leaping over obstacles as he took out the other team.  Bucky and Steve were a team of their own.  The other players almost kept their distance, only attacking if either of them were in over their heads, which they weren't.  

“ _Are these guys even real?_ ”  one of their teammates whispered breathlessly through their headset.

“Hell yeah we’re real.”  Bucky said through a smirk.

“Buck, they can’t hear us.  We don’t have headsets.”

“Well get some, Steve.”  Bucky glared as he took out another person.

They won their first team deathmatch with ease, and Steve congratulated the brunet with a kiss.  Bucky melted against Steve’s touch, relief coursing through his veins.  The kiss was simple, yet calming, letting his mind relax.  He sighed against Steve’s lips, slowly licking into his mouth as if he was begging for more.

“Mmmph...Buck…”  Steve mumbled against cherry red lips, fingers tangling in Bucky’s dark, messy locks.

The game wasn't a solution to Bucky’s anger, but a simple distraction.  It put him in a situation he was familiar with and felt comfortable with.  Bucky knew Steve couldn’t give him the answers he was looking for, but he always tried to understand.  He always listened, but didn't step on his feelings.  He listened; he let him feel anger, sadness, fear, and it was so easy for him to feel safer knowing that.

“Wanna play a few more rounds of this, or are you getting hungry?”  Steve asked as he set his controller aside.

“‘m hungry, Steve.”

“Alright, what would you like?”

“You remember that time you stood up to some bully pullin’ Lucy’s pigtails in the schoolyard?”  

Steve smiled and nodded, remembering how he got punched square in the jaw and how Bucky had returned the favor for him.

“Didn't your ma let us help make her famous chicken n’ dumplings that day?  I want that.”

“Alright, Buck.  D’you wanna help?”  Steve asked as he climbed out of bed slowly.

“Did you really have to ask, Steve?”  Bucky smirked and soon joined Steve at his side, following him out of the room and into the kitchen.

The second the two stepped into the kitchen, he remembered what he had done and chewed on his lip nervously.  He was afraid of Steve being angry with him for destroying their plates.  He cringed every time he heard the broken shards of dinnerware crunching under their feet.  

“S-sorry, Steve.”

“It’s a good thing I bought paper plates then.  I’ll buy more dinnerware tomorrow.  It’s no big deal, Buck.”  Steve smiled and pulled Bucky close to him, his movements cautious and gentle.  Bucky still shook under the blond’s soft touch, and swallowed hard as he slowly brought his gaze up to meet Steve’s bright blue eyes.

“It’s okay, Buck.  Everything can be easily replaced.”  Steve whispered before he pressed a tender kiss to his lips.  It calmed his racing mind and the fear of Steve being angry with him.

“Except you, ya jerk.  Couldn't replace you even if I wanted to.  Don’t want to, though.  ‘s too much work.”  Bucky’s smile widened slightly against Steve’s lips at his comment, and he suddenly felt relieved.  

“Now why don’t you clean up a bit, n’ I’ll start getting dinner prepared?”  Steve asked, and Bucky quickly nodded as he reluctantly pulled away from his side to grab a broom and dustpan.

Looking down at his mess, Bucky couldn't help but frown.  In his blind rage, he destroyed more than he thought.   _A fucking window was broken_.  They’d have to report that to management so they could replace the window, and being a new tenant, it didn't look good for them.  He swept up what debris he could before his eyes shifted to Steve.  

“‘m sorry again, Stevie…”

“Come here, Buck.”  Steve said as he set out some ingredients for their meal.

Bucky nodded, looking down at his feet as he approached the blond, and he inhaled sharply the moment he felt Steve’s arms wrapping around him.

“We’ll get through this together, alright?  I won’t let you go through this alone.”  

Bucky nodded, slowly bringing his gaze up to look into Steve’s eyes, only to close the distance a few seconds later as he pressed a soft kiss to his friend’s lips.  He didn't notice how much he missed kissing Steve until he felt a tongue swiping across his bottom lip.  It was like neither of them could get enough of each other or stay apart for too long, but Steve reluctantly pulled away a few moments later.

The two quickly started preparing dinner without another word.  They didn't need to talk to each other to know what needed to be done.  Their movements were fluid, working with each other to put together their meal and Bucky felt exactly like he did that time he helped Steve make chicken and dumplings with his mom.  

It took about an hour for them to finish making dinner before they settled down on the couch with their drinks and their plates.  Bucky flipped the tv on, settling on some crime drama before he dug into his food.

“How is it, Buck?”

“‘s great.”  Bucky said gruffly as he shoveled more food into his mouth.  Steve just smiled back at him and they both finished off their meals in comfortable silence.

The two of them spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess Bucky had made, interrupting each other with kisses every so often, and neither of them complained.  Steve made a call down to the apartment manager about the broken window as the brunet settled down on the couch for the evening, flipping through the channels on the television until he found a show he liked.  

Steve joined him on the couch minutes later with a heavy sigh, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.  Bucky didn't pay him much attention; he just kept his eyes glued to the screen like it was the most important thing in the world to him.  He didn't want to hear about what the apartment manager had to say about the broken window.  He wasn’t sure what kind of excuse Steve was going to come up with, but he sure as hell wasn't going to say anything.

“So the apartment manager’s going to come by tomorrow afternoon to check out the damage.  We could probably go get some new flatware and stuff after.  How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good, Steve,”  Bucky grunted unenthusiastically.  “Hey, can you get me a beer?”

“Sure thing, Buck.”  Steve said as he pushed himself up off the couch and silently padded over to the kitchen to get a few beers.  He flopped back down in his spot the second he returned, handing a bottle over to the brunet.

“Thanks.”  Bucky said as he pried open the cap with ease.  

The two men drank the night away, neither of them feeling the effects of the alcohol, but that didn't bother them.  They immersed themselves in another movie until one of them drifted off to sleep.  Steve was the first to nod off, and Bucky almost made the effort to carry Steve back to his bedroom, but decided not to risk it.  Not tonight.  

The gentle breeze blowing through the broken window was relaxing and Bucky soon found himself nodding off.  He yawned, stretching himself out onto the couch and rested his head on Steve’s lap.  He drifted off shortly after, and for once, he wasn’t plagued with horrible memories that woke him up in the middle of the night.

\---

**_November 11th, 2016_ **

“ _Tony Stark delivered a bionic arm he designed to a child at St. Jude Hospital…_ ”  the shrill voice of a newscaster filled the room as Tony Stark’s face was plastered across the television screen.

Bucky froze the second he heard Starks’ name; he was busy making a sandwich in the kitchen, but instantly dropped the butter knife on the counter.  There was something about the ‘Stark’ name that just didn’t sit right with him, like he’d had run-ins with someone with that name before.  It made his blood run cold.  He shuddered as he tried to blink back a memory that threatened to surface.

_A cold winter breeze blew across the balcony the Asset had perched on.  He had a sniper rifle trained on a sleek-looking Cadillac.  The deed was already done; he had crawled under the Cadillac and pinched one of the brake lines while the owner, his date and his driver were eating out.  The sniper rifle was just a secondary precaution; in case a pinched brake line wasn't enough._

_December 17th, 1991.  The day was just another ordinary day for the Soldier; another mission, another success.  That’s all that mattered.  He kept his eye trained on the Cadillac, waiting patiently for his mission to exit the diner and get into the vehicle.  It wouldn't take long.  There was a busy intersection just a tenth of a mile away that would wipe them all out given the circumstances._

_Howard Stark was his mission._

_The Soldier straightened up the second his eyes focused on his mission exiting the diner, eye pressing into his scope once the billionaire climbed into the car.  He watched and waited, eyes trained on the Cadillac as it pulled out of the space, heading straight for the busy intersection.  He licked his lower lip, watching and waiting patiently.  A few moments later, his prediction came true.  The brakes failed just as they were approaching the busy intersection and the sound of metal crashing and scraping against metal was music to his ears._

_The Asset made his way down to the wreck, taking his time.  He just needed confirmation for his handlers.  As he approached the crumpled heap of metal, his eyes caught sight of blood.  A woman was in the back seat with a broken neck, her head at grotesquely odd angle that didn't sit right with him.  The driver’s head was buried in the steering wheel, blood gushing out of a very nasty head wound.  He would die in a few minutes, if he wasn’t already.  His mission, on the other hand, was still alive; barely.  He was gasping for air, his eyes still showing a bit of life._

_Make it look like an accident._

_The Soldier’s breath caught in his throat.  He had seen Howard Stark somewhere before, but he couldn't quite place it.  He looked down at his mission._

_“Where are the flying cars, Stark?”  It was the first question that came to mind as soon as he knelt down to check out the damage.  He shouldn't speak, but there was something familiar about his mission; like he had seen Howard Stark before.  He wasn't even sure where the question came from._

_“B-Bucky?”  Howard choked, blood dripping out of his mouth._

_The conversation needed to be over.  Talking to his victim wasn't in his mission parameters.  He slowly reached out, taking Howard’s head in his hands before he quickly twisted it around, breaking his neck.  The Soldier straightened up after the deed was done and walked away from the scene, cold and emotionless as he headed toward his extraction point to wait for his handlers._

“Bucky?”

“Who the--”  Bucky stopped himself.   _He was Bucky_.  That was his name.  The name belonged to him.

Bucky stood frozen in place, eyes glued to the television still focused on Tony Stark’s sharp features.  He was smiling and waving to the crowd gathered around a children’s hospital, making a short speech about his donation.  He swallowed hard; the face was so familiar.  Tony looked so much like his father.

“That’s Howard Stark’s son, right?”  Bucky whispered.  It was the only English he could manage at the moment.  Everything he felt seemed more _Russian_.  

“Yeah, Buck.  You okay?”  Bucky shook his head in response.

“What’s wrong?”  

Bucky swallowed hard, unsure if he could answer.  He looked down at his feet, clenching his right hand into a fist as he tried to control his fear and his anger.

“Ya ubil Govarda Starka.”  Bucky whispered under his breath.   _I killed Howard Stark_.

“What?”

“I think I killed Howard Stark.”  Bucky whispered again, the words choking him like poison before he bolted for the bathroom.  He felt sick.  He remembered Howard and all the things he’d done for the Howling Commandos.  He remembered talking with the genius about the dames back home and laughing about the flying car incident at the Stark Expo.  He remembered hanging out with Stark on one of their off-days at a bar, drinking a whiskey and talking about what they’d do after the war.

_“I’ll probably just settle down in a shitty apartment and get drunk off cheap booze with a dame on my lap.”  Stark, on the other hand, talked about his ideas.  It was interesting, the things the man could come up with._

Bucky shook as he shut the door, leaning against it for a brief moment before he moved over to the sink.  He hunched over it and quickly turned on the faucet, splashing a handful of cold water on his face.  It didn't make him feel better, and it didn’t fix the problem.  He shook as he climbed into the tub, reverting back to the small space he always found comfort in.

“ _Bucky?_ ”  Steve’s concerned voice was muffled by the door.

_I am not a weapon._

Bucky clenched his left hand into a fist, the gears whirring and locking into place from the pressure.

_Wrong.  I am a weapon._

Bucky clawed at the metal plating around his left shoulder in almost a panicked state.  The arm was what made him the weapon, and he felt conflicted about it.  On one hand, he needed the arm.  Of course he could live without it; a lot of people lived as amputees without prosthetics and they were perfectly fine, but he didn't quite feel whole without it, like it was a part of him now and if he went without it, his life wouldn't be complete.  On the other hand, Hydra had given him the arm and he _hated_ that.  The arm was a weapon that was a part of him.  Even if the arm was gone, his past would still haunt him, and that’s what terrified him most.

“Bucky, may I come in?”

Bucky couldn't bring himself to speak.  He still felt ill and the only thing he could see was the mangled wreck and _so much blood_.  He saw it on his hands even though it wasn't there.   _It was there in 1991_.  He remembered his handlers scrubbing the blood off of him.   _It wasn't his own blood_.  

“Alright, I’m coming in, Buck…”  Steve sounded nervous, but the door shifted open slowly.

Bucky’s eyes quickly shot up to meet Steve’s cautious gaze the second the blond stepped into the room, his own eyes filled with fear and sadness.  The blond kept his distance for a few minutes, his movements cautious and slow.

“Hey, it’s okay, Buck.  I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you right now, but we’ll get through this together, okay?  ‘m not gonna leave you.”

“Ya ubil Govarda Starka.”  Bucky whispered again, drawing his knees up to his chest.

“Alright, something about Howard Stark?”

Bucky couldn't nod, but gave Steve a nervous glance, hugging his knees tighter to his chest.

“It’s okay to tell me, Buck.  I won’t be angry.  I just want to understand what’s going on.  May I kiss you?  That seemed to work before...”  Steve was trying to find answers, to try and get Bucky to calm down; to distract him from his fears.  

“Dekabr' semnadtsatogo, 1991.”  Bucky whispered, not answering Steve’s question.

“December...1991?”  Steve paused, and the brunet nodded nervously.  “I was still in the ice then, Buck.”

“Ya ubil _Govarda Starka_.  Govard Stark moya missiya.”

“Howard was your mission?”

Bucky inhaled sharply, fear flashing through his wide eyes quickly as he shrunk away from Steve.  The answer was yes.  Did Steve see it in his frightened demeanor, or was he clueless as always?  Steve always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt; always tried to give them a way out unless there was no other way.   _There was always another way._

“Buck, you gotta help me out here a bit.  I don’t know enough Russian to understand you completely.  You’re telling me that you’re the one who killed Tony’s father?”

“Da.”   _Yes._  

Steve sighed heavily, settling down onto the cold tile floor next to the tub.  He looked at Bucky with sad, defeated eyes and pressed his lips into a hard line.  The brunet carefully studied his friend’s features, still keeping his distance and still keeping himself small.

“Buck, you shouldn't feel guilty over your past.  You know neither of us can change the things Hydra made you do.”

_I am a weapon._

"Itak, vy vidite menya v kachestve oruzhiya?”

Hydra made him a weapon.  Hydra defined him as a weapon.  Putting the blame on Hydra for the things he did made him a weapon.   _Guns don’t kill people; people do._

“Bucky, I don’t understand you.  I want to help.”

There was anger in Bucky’s eyes, pure white hot rage that boiled in the pit of his stomach.  He tried to control it, because the only thing he was thinking right now was _kill_.  Kill the things that bleed red, because that’s all he saw.  The red of his star was the color of the blood that pumped through Steve’s veins; everyone’s veins.  Yet he couldn't help but laugh, and it wasn’t a good laugh.  It was the product of an uncontrollable rage, deep, dark, and full of wrath.  It startled Steve.

“You see me as Hydra saw me.  A weapon.”  Bucky hissed through his teeth.  The blond backed away at that statement, eyes wide.

“N-no, Bucky.  I’m just saying that Hydra ma--”

“So I shouldn’t feel guilty?  I haven’t felt anything in _years_ , Steve and the few fleeting moments that I do feel something of my own accord, something I consider human, you deny me.  You’re ignoring my feelings to benefit your ideals.”  Bucky stood, his voice harsh and stance predatory as he stepped out of the tub, inching towards Steve.  He was hunting.

“Bucky, I--

“They stripped away what was left of my humanity, Steve!  They put something else in!”  Bucky roared.  

“You blame them for the deaths I caused, because _they_ did _this_ -”  Bucky’s left arm flew up, gripping at Steve’s throat, not enough to choke him but enough to cause some amount of discomfort. “-to me.  The arm isn't what made me their perfect weapon, Steve.  That was just an enhancement.”  

Bucky hissed as he let go, leaving Steve breathless and eyes gaping as he backed into the sink.  The brunet kept his distance, shaking slightly from his anger.

“Weapons do not have emotion, Steve.  They don’t feel guilt.  Someone aims and pulls the trigger, and the weapon does not feel loss for the death it caused.  To you, I am the weapon that Hydra controlled, that _aimed_ me in the right direction and _told me to pull the trigger_.  You don’t want me to feel remorse now because it’s not my fault, the people I killed shouldn't be on me.  I felt no remorse then, but I feel it now and _it’s tearing me apart_.

“You ignore my guilt, my remorse because I didn't know any better.  I wasn’t in my right mind.  I get it; but it was still me.  I was still the one to be there to pull the trigger.  Sure, someone was controlling me, but that’s what makes me a weapon.  Weapons cannot fire on their own; they need some form of human contact before the deed is done.  So I understand your reasoning, but it’s not helping me any.”  

Bucky’s anger subsided by the last sentence.  He felt exhausted.  All he wanted was for Steve to understand.  He didn't want Steve to place the blame on Hydra, or anyone for that matter.  Sure, it was justified.  Hydra did make him the man he was now and it made sense to place the blame on them.  It was simple; it was an easy fix for everyone else _but_ him, because they didn't live through it.

What Bucky did not expect was for Steve to pull him into his arms, hugging him close and holding him there, face buried into the crook of the blond’s neck.  

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.”  Steve whispered, his throat tight and congested with emotion.  “I didn't know…”

Bucky shook in Steve’s arms, trying to hold back the tears that were already streaming down his face, soaking the blond’s shirt.

“Please allow me to feel guilt and remorse for the people I killed, Steve.  I need this.”  Bucky whispered into Steve’s neck as his anger subsided, the harshness in his voice disappearing.

“Alright, Bucky.  It’s okay; I’m sorry.”  

Bucky sniffled, trying to collect himself, yet he couldn't bring himself to move away from Steve.  He drank in his scent, the smoothness of his skin and the sound of his voice.  It was like the blond was all he knew.  That’s all he wanted, so he pulled himself closer, body practically molding against Steves’.

“Tell me about him, Stevie…”

“Who?”  

“Howard.  I know I met him; I remember the few times we hung out and the times he helped us.  I just want to hear it from you.”

“Alright,” Steve said with a small sigh, hands rubbing down his back slowly.  “Howard was smart, almost impossibly smart.  He had big dreams, bigger dreams than I think his own mind could handle, but he tried to make all of his dreams come true.”

“Were you one of them?”

“Mmm...I think so?  I don’t know.  He made weapons for a living, n’ I think he thought that Project Rebirth was the one thing that brought good into a world that was so used to destruction.

“He was always curious; always willing to learn.  You've always been the same way, Buck.  When you found somethin’ new that interested you, you’d study it for hours and tell me all about it with the brightest smile on your face.”

Steve had the biggest smile on his face, and it made Bucky’s heart flutter in his chest.  All he wanted to do was kiss that smile and taste his happiness, and maybe some of that happiness would rub off on him.  Yet the more Steve talked about Howard, the more guilty he felt.  He wanted to apologize.

“Howard would do the same thing sometimes.  The things he would tell me often went way over my head, but it was always interesting.”

“Does Tony know that I killed his parents?”

“As far as I know, no.  He thinks it was an accident.  He hasn't talked to me about it much; we’re not that close.”  

Bucky looked down, staring at their feet only inches apart.  He wanted closure; he wanted to make things right, so he stepped away from Steve, briefly leaving the room to grab a jacket.

“What are you doing, Bucky?”  Steve asked as the brunet left the room.

“I want to apologize to him.”  Bucky whispered quietly from the doorway.  

“I--what?  Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Steve.  I’m sure.  ‘s the right thing to do,”  Bucky started, not moving aside when Steve made a move to grab his own jacket.  “n’ I don’t want you comin’ with me.  I need to do this on my own.  I’ll call you if anything happens.”

“Alright, Buck.”  Steve said with a defeated sigh.

That was the only way to get Steve to stay behind.  He sighed as he turned on his heel, slipping on his jacket as he headed for the door.  He didn't say goodbye, and he didn’t want to.  All he wanted to do was get out of that apartment.  Bucky just felt the need to be alone after everything he said to Steve.  

Bucky exited the apartment, eyes darting across the congested streets for a few minutes before he turned towards the Avengers tower.  He knew where Stark lived; he knew the tall skyscraper he had built with the word ‘Avengers’ printed right towards the top.  Steve was an avenger.  He read all about the battle of New York, and that’s how it all started.  

The Avengers were Steve’s new ‘Howling Commandos’, and Bucky wasn't sure what to think of that.  He knew that the Howling Commandos were no more, but he remembered bits and pieces of the things they did.  Part of him missed the camaraderie, but he enjoyed the silence of being alone, save for being at his best friend’s side.  

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets as he shuffled past a few tourists, ducking against the cold breeze.  The Avengers Tower was only a few blocks away, but the closer he got, the more he was dreading the encounter.  He could turn back, but he knew the guilt would return the second he stepped back into his apartment.  

Bucky glanced down at his phone, checking the time.  Steve would be making dinner right about now and he almost wanted to call and ask him what he was making.  Sometimes the brunet would eat with him, but most times, his stomach couldn't handle it or he wasn’t hungry so he’d skip out in favor of reading or listening to music.  Steve never argued with him about it or tried to force him to eat, and Bucky was thankful.  

He tried to keep his thoughts on things Steve might be doing at this time as he approached the Avengers tower, but once he reached the front steps, his mind blanked.

The nerves and the guilt returned the moment Bucky stepped into the building.  He glanced around for a few moments, taking in the marble floors and the high ceilings supported by thick, ornate beams.  He stepped forward, slowly making his way towards the front desk.

“Bucky?” A woman asked from behind the counter.  Her hair was tied back into a neat bun and she had a relatively kind face.  She tried to hide her shock behind a friendly smile that almost put him at ease.

“H-how do you know my name?”  Even the information Natalia leaked onto the internet about Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D didn't have his name.  All of the information on him was in a small file he had seen Steve flip through a few times.

“Steve told me about you.  I’m Maria Hill; is there anything I can help you with today?”

Bucky blinked, still puzzled, but decided that what Maria Hill knew of him wasn't as important as the reason he was at the Avengers Tower.

“I um...I need to talk to Howa--Tony Stark.  ‘s really important.  D’you know if he’s available?”  Bucky couldn't make eye contact and he shuffled around nervously.

“I’ll see what I can do, Bucky.”  Maria says with a smile as she picked up a phone.  He thought about calling Steve; he thought about backing out, but he was determined.  He needed to see Stark.  

“ _Alright, I’ll send him up.  Thank you._ ”  Maria’s kind voice answered into the receiver before she hung up the phone.  

“You’re in luck, Bucky.  Tony’s invited you up for dinner.  Here’s a visitors pass; just flash this in front of the scanner at the elevator just off to the right.  The floor you’re going to get off on is seventy-six.  He’ll be waiting for you there.”  Maria said as she handed over a small laminated paper.  Bucky cautiously took it, shuffling nervously on the balls of his feet before he nodded a quick ‘thank you’, leaving for the elevator shortly after.

Bucky swallowed hard as he flashed the small card across the reader and the elevator doors slid open on their own accord.  He stepped inside, pressing the button to the right floor and he waited.  It felt like an eternity as the elevator took him up.   _He wanted to turn around_.  He wanted to go home.  Home was safe in the arms of Steve, because it was familiar.  This was not.  He’d been in countless unfamiliar situations, but this just felt different.

His surroundings were unfamiliar, but Bucky knew this needed to be done.  These were his own orders, his own mission, so he quickly collected himself as the elevator stopped, signalling that it was time for him to get off.  He bit his lip and stood up straight as the doors slid open, revealing a sharp-dressed man with an eager smile waiting for him on the other side.

“Barnes, is it?”  Stark’s eyes briefly darted towards Bucky’s metal hand poking out from underneath the long sleeve of his coat.  He looked _fascinated_.  “Come on in; Pepper and I are just about to sit down for dinner.  Would you like to join us?”

Bucky barely had time to step out of the elevator before Tony was ushering him towards a lavish dining area down the hallway.

“I um...I actually came to talk about your father.”  Bucky glanced over at Stark, his feet moving on their own accord.  He only stopped briefly when he mentioned Tony’s father, as the engineers’ own pace had faltered before he pressed on.  The brunet took the time to examine Stark’s minute but very _telling_ expressions; his lips pressed into a hard line, like talking about Howard Stark wasn't the _greatest_ topic to start off with, but Bucky wanted to get right to the point.  

“Yeah?  What about him?  You here to tell me that he was a great man just like everyone else, that they thought they knew him better than _his own son_?”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised at that, and he stopped in his tracks.

“W-what?”

“Yeah, you heard me.”  Stark continued on like he wasn't leaving Bucky behind.  “Now come on, dinner’s getting cold.”

Fifteen minutes later and the three of them were eating quietly, the tension in the air not settling Bucky’s nerves any.  He was only pushing the foie gras around on his plate, staring at it blankly and thinking of all the ways he could kill someone with a butter knife.  

“So I saw what happened in DC.  So you turned good now, Barnes?”

Bucky bit his lip.  The programming was still there, he could easily revert back if he wanted to, but he was in control of himself now.  

“That’s not what I’m here for, Stark.”  Bucky hissed, digging his knife into the piece of meat on his plate.

“I know what you’re here for and I don’t want to talk about it.  Lets talk about that metal arm of yours, buddy.  How does that thing work anyways?”  Stark said as he shoveled some mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“I killed your parents, Stark!  That’s what I’m here for!”  Bucky shouted.  He didn't want to talk about himself.  He didn't want to talk about the events in DC, or his arm.  He shook in anger and frustration, quickly getting up out of his chair and turned to head for the door.

_“Jarvis, lock the place down.”_

Bucky froze in place as the dining room door locked on its own accord, fear coursing through his veins like he was an animal trapped in a corner.  He remembered feeling this sort of fear before; when Zola first took him, and his only instinct was to fight back.  He clenched both hands into a fist as he spun around on the balls of his feet, eyes darkened as he glared at Stark.  

“Tony--”  Pepper whined.

“Yeah, I know.  I don’t think I should have done that.”  Tony backed up as Bucky inched closer.  “Jarvis, call Cap.  Tell him we've got a situation.”

Bucky had Stark pinned against the wall in seconds, left arm wielding a butter knife aimed at Pepper.  He didn't like taking hostages and this shouldn’t be one of those situations.  

“You wanna know how I did it, Stark?  I cut the brake lines.”   _I’m sorry._  “Your father was still alive when I inspected the accident to report it to my superiors.” _I’m so sorry._  “I snapped his neck.” _It was either me or Howard._  “He said my name before I killed him, Stark.”   _I wish it had been me._  

“I could do the same to you.”  Bucky hissed the last sentence, glaring through teary eyes.  He was fighting himself with every fiber of his being.  He didn't want to be violent, but his instincts had kicked in the moment the door locked.  He dropped the knife, backing away slowly.  He chose gaining back control over his instincts of being a killer once again.

“Jarvis, false alarm.  Unlock the doors.”  Tony choked out, his voice distant, like he couldn't believe what had just happened.

“I’m sorry.”  Bucky whispered.  He wasn't sure what he was apologizing _for_ , exactly; scaring the piss out of Tony, or killing Howard.  Either way, he felt another mountain of guilt weighing him down.

“Whoa there, big guy.  It’s okay…”  Tony must have noticed his rapid breathing and shaking limb because the engineer quickly shoved a beer into his metal hand and lead him out onto the balcony, stating that fresh air would do them both some good.

“W-what about dinner?”  Bucky’s voice was shaky.

“Don’t worry about dinner.  There will be plenty more dinners.  No big deal.”  Tony plopped down on a nearby couch and patted the seat next to him.  “Now lets sit down and talk about this, okay?  I should have done that from the start instead of trapping you in the dining room like that.  I’m sorry, I just didn't want you to run off without an explanation.  Lets just start over, okay?  Clean slate.  Hi, I’m Tony Stark.  You must be Bucky Barnes.”

“I prefer Barnes.”  Howard always called him Barnes.  It felt familiar.  He slowly pried open the beer and took a sip.

“Alright, fair enough.  What brings you to my tower this evening?  Seemed important, seeing as you’re a wanted man.”

“Wanted man?”

“Well, yeah.  You killed more than a dozen political officials over the span of about fifty years, give or take a few.  Not only that, you somehow managed to wrangle yourself free from Hydra’s grasp so I’m sure they’re looking for you too.  That’s not the point.  What brings you to my doorstep today, Barnes?”

“I um...I came here to apologize for killing your parents.”

“And you know what?  It’s fine.  I turned out fine without them, and look where their wealth landed me?”

“That’s not the point, Stark.”  Bucky hissed through gritted teeth.  He didn't care how far Tony had gotten living without his parents.  He didn't care what Howard’s wealth had given him.

“Then what’s the point, Terminator?  My father neglected me in favor of his own inventions.  I grew up resenting Howard because I could never live up to his standards.  You know who set those standards, Barnes?  Captain America.  Howard loved Steve Rogers almost as much as he loved his job.  He never shut up about him, kind of wish he did.”  

Bucky’s eyes widened briefly at Stark’s words.  He contemplated his own guilt in silence for a few minutes, staring down at the city below them.  Howard thought more highly of Steve than his own son?  He bit his lip, trying to hold back his anger at that thought.  Sure, Steve was great; amazing even.  He _loved_ Steve and knew every inch of Steve from top to bottom and could go on for _days_ explaining how wonderful Steve was, but Tony was Howard’s son.  If that sonofabitch treated Tony horribly enough for his son to resent him, then Howard wasn’t that great of a man.  In the end, his guilt still outweighed Tony’s own resentment towards his father.

“I’m still sorry.  It was either him, or me.  When he said my name, I wished it had been me in that car.  I wish he was the one that snapped my neck.  I regret every kill I've ever made, especially Howard.  He did so much for Steve, for the Howling Commandos, and I never got to thank him.”  Bucky was close to tears again, and he curled in on himself, trying to make himself small.

“Well, Barnes, it’s okay to regret your actions.  It’s fine; I've done a few things I regret too.  I went into the weapons manufacturing business, like Howard, and it came back to bite me in the ass in the end.  Gave me this huge gaping hole in my chest and a permanent night-light in its place.  Didn't trust any surgeon to remove it; the night-light was my security blanket, my little reminder that I survived and grew from it.  You just gotta find your security blanket, Barnes.”  Tony said with a small smile.  Out of habit, Bucky scratched at his left shoulder where metal met flesh, glancing down into his lap.

Bucky supposed his arm could be his security blanket, like Tony’s ‘permanent night-light’ was for him.  His arm was his reminder that he survived Hydra and he was getting back on his feet again.  He never would have thought of that before, and he suddenly felt so relieved.  He only saw his arm as a weapon, but this was now his reminder that Hydra isn't a part of him anymore, and they couldn't take him back.  They couldn’t take the arm back.

“Oh, look who’s here.  Hey, Steve!”  Bucky’s ears perked up when Tony announced Steve’s arrival.  “Sorry about the call; we had a small incident but it’s been handled.  I was just about to invite Bucky to watch a movie with Pepper and I; care to join us?”

Steve was leaning against the door frame to the balcony casually, concerned gaze flashing over Bucky.  Stark gave him a hopeful smile and Bucky looked at them both warily.

“Yeah, sure.  That sounds fine, Stark.  Would you mind if I talked to Bucky alone for a minute?”

“Sure, but I’ll be timing you two geezers.  If you’re not back inside in two minutes, I’m assuming you both fell and broke a hip.  You know Nat and I have been discussing buying you life alert.”

Steve just rolled his eyes as Stark shuffled past him, leaving the two of them alone on the balcony.  

Bucky sighed and loosened up a bit once Steve sat down.  He tried to gauge his emotions, noting the relaxed smile and the openness of his chest.  He was trusting, calm; not angry with Bucky at all.  

“‘m sorry that Stark called you here.”

“C’mere, Buck.”  Steve patted the cushion next to him, urging him to scoot closer.  He obeyed, and Steve draped his arm over the back of the couch.  “Tell me what happened.”

“I-I thought everything was fine.  I jus’ got a bit angry ‘cause Stark wouldn’t listen to me when I wanted to apologize.  I guess I got a bit threatening ‘cause he locked the place down.  It frightened me.”

Steve frowned, but drew Bucky closer to him.  The brunet pressed into the other man’s side gently, curling into the warmth of his body.

“Hey, it’s oka--”  Bucky cut him off with a kiss, his tongue swiping across his lips for a quick taste.

“Mmph…”  Steve responded to the kiss, voice muffled against Bucky’s lips.  He could feel the brunet relax in his arms, the tension and nerves from earlier quickly dissipating as he was drowned in another kiss.  

“Jesus Christ!  Howard would be rolling in his grave if he saw the two of you goin’ at it like that.  Not that it’s a bad thing, though.  Howard was always trying to hook Steve up with Peggy; just didn't think you swung that way, Cap.”

“‘s not that I don’t.  I loved Peggy…”  Steve mumbled as Bucky nipped at his lower lip, but he couldn't get himself to blurt out his feelings for Bucky.   _Not in front of Stark_.  It wasn’t the right time.

“I guess I just have a certain type.”  Steve said as Bucky pulled away with a small smile, trying to hide the blush staining his cheeks.

Bucky took note, running the fingers of his flesh and bone hand across Steve’s reddened cheeks, and his thoughts were quickly interrupted when Steve shifted to stand up.

“Alright, c'mon Buck.  Lets go watch a movie.”  The suggestion was a distraction to Steve’s own embarrassment, and Bucky gladly welcomed it.  He didn't think much of it, and whatever Steve was thinking wasn't his business.  

Bucky stood up and followed Steve back inside, letting Stark lead them into a small theater.  Pepper was already waiting for them and they both picked out their seats.  

“So are you two an item now, or what?”  Stark asked as he prodded at Steve’s arm.

“Oh, leave them alone, Tony.  What are we watching tonight?”

“I was thinking Disney.  Maleficent just released earlier this month and I’ve been dying to watch it.  You’ve heard of Sleeping Beauty, right Cap?”

“Yeah, my mom used to read me those stories.”  

“The originals?  Or were they toned down so your little ears wouldn’t be traumatized?”

“The originals, now start the damn movie, Stark.”  Steve said with a smile as he helped himself to a glass of beer in the mini-fridge.  He plopped down next to Bucky a few moments later, letting the brunet curl into his chest as the movie started.  

“You okay, Buck?”  Steve whispered, sifting his fingers through Bucky’s hair slowly.

“Yeah, just needed to kiss you was all.  ‘m fine.”  Bucky whispered back, leaning up to press a kiss to Steve’s chin before he turned to watch the movie.

The two of them decided to crash at the Avengers tower that night, and thankfully Stark had planned for something like this.  Steve had his own floor, and of course the decor was excessive and opulent.  Neither of them liked it, but they would only have to tolerate it for one night, so they both stripped down and climbed into the only bed available.  Bucky let Steve curl into his chest like he always used to do, and it was the only thing that brought him comfort in the new surroundings.  He slowly drifted off about half an hour later, sifting his fingers through the blond’s short strands of hair as the sandman finally came for him.

\---

_ **November 20th, 2016** _

_“Hydra doesn’t like leaks.”  Sitwell spat angrily from the back seat of Wilson’s car.  They were speeding along the freeway, making their way towards the Triskellion._

_“Then why don’t you try sticking a cork in it?”  Wilson glanced into the rear-view mirror.  He wasn’t about to turn around just because some Nazi scientists didn’t want their ‘evil plan’ to be leaked._

_“Insight’s launching in sixteen hours.  We’re cutting it a little bit close here.”  Natasha seemed just as determined to get this out out of the way.  The sooner this was handled, the better._

_“I know.  We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly.”_

_“What?!  Are you crazy?  That’s a terrible, TERRIBLE ide--” **THUD.**_

_A metal arm smashed through the window where Sitwell was sitting and a hand pulled him from his seat, throwing him out of the car and into oncoming traffic.  The first word that raced through Steve’s mind was_ ‘shit’.

_They were in a moving car and someone was firing bullets through the roof, and Steve was not sure how to handle the situation.  Natasha had somehow managed to scramble into his lap and shove him out of the way of a bullet that nearly hit him square in the back of the head.  The blond quickly pulled the emergency brake, only to see the man with the metal arm fly off the roof of the car and skid along the pavement as the vehicle came to an abrupt halt._

_Was this guy even real?_

_Steve sat stunned until another car rammed into the back of theirs, pushing the automobile into The Winter Soldier’s path._

**_THUD!_ **

_He was on the roof, and before he could even blink, the masked assassin had ripped the steering wheel off of the dashboard.  There was no way they could regain control of the vehicle, and as soon as the SUV sped forward, it started to roll._

_“Hang on!”  Steve yelled as he grabbed for Sam and Natasha, shoving open the passengers’ side door.  The door broke free from the hinges and they skidded across the pavement, only to get up and run for cover as soon as they came to a stop.  Steve turned back, shoving Natasha out of the way of a grenade flying towards them.  He blocked the shot with his shield, but was sent flying over the cement guardrail and into a bus.  The impact had distracted the driver, tipping the bus onto its side the second it collided with another vehicle._

_Steve ached all over, but flying into a moving bus after a grenade was fired at you would do that.  He could hear gunfire coming from above, and he glanced around to make sure the civilians were getting out of the wreck safe before he pushed himself back up onto his feet.  In a matter of seconds, bullets ripped through the underside of the overturned bus and Steve rushed towards the back window, dodging bullets as he broke through the glass and grabbed his shield._

_Four men were firing at him, and Steve rushed forward, deflecting bullets off of his shield, the ricochets’ hitting three of the men that were shooting at him.  He grit his teeth, rushing up onto the car the last man had perched on and swiftly took him down.  He could hear more gunfire from above, and quickly looked up to see Sam looking down the scope of a rifle._

_“Go!  I got this!”  Sam shouted, waving him off to help Natasha.  Steve sprinted off to find Nat, only to stop in his tracks when he heard an explosion.  He grit his teeth, hoping for the best as he sprinted towards the general direction of where the blast came from._

_Steve could see Natasha duck behind a car, gripping her shoulder.  She must have been shot.  He clenched his jaw, anger coursing through his veins as he watched The Winter Soldier take aim at his best friend.  He rushed forward, blocking a very powerful punch with his shield.  Steve could hear the loud_ clang _from the impact of The Winter Soldier’s metal fist against his shield and he cringed, trying to push the man back.  Instead, his shield was shoved aside and a boot collided with his chest, sending him flying back to the pavement._

_This guy had an arsenal of weapons on him.  Where the hell did they all come from?  No matter how many shots he blocked with his shield or how many times he disarmed The Winter Soldier, he somehow managed to pull another gun or another knife out of thin air.  It left Steve scrambling to catch up and defend himself.  His shield was torn away and his eyes widened the moment The Winter Soldier threw his shield.  He tried to reach for it, but let it embed itself into the back of a van as he rushed forward to attack._

_The Winter Soldier was one step ahead.  He was always one step ahead.  Steve couldn't even get a punch in; this guy was brutal and merciless in his attacks, only to land one good punch and a kick to the chest once he was far enough away.  The Winter Soldier slammed into a beat-up pickup from the force, barely winded by the impact as Steve rushed forward, slamming his knee right into the masked assassin’s chest.  The blow didn't even phase him._

_Steve was lifted off the ground in a matter of seconds, metal fingers tightening around his throat as he was forcibly thrown across the pavement.  He groaned, only to see the Winter Soldier baring down on him, metal fist aimed right at his head.  He rolled out of the way, and Jesus, another knife?!_

_Steve was pinned against a van, using all of his strength to try and keep the knife from driving right into his throat.  He shifted to the side the moment the Winter Soldier drove the blade forward, the knife burying itself into the side of the van.  He dragged the assassin along the side of the van before kicking him away, disarming him of his knife.  He reached for his shield, prying it out of the van’s crumpled back door before he jumped back into the fight._

_Steve jabbed the edge of the shield into The Winter Soldier’s metal arm, denting the plates enough to expose a bit of wiring.  He swung the shield around, aiming for the assassin’s throat as the edge grazed along the tough fabric.  It cut right through the material and into his throat, leaving behind a gash that started to ooze blood.  The Winter Soldier was caught off guard, eyes wide as he fell onto his back, blood pouring down his leather jacket._

_Time seemed to stand still as Steve straightened up, trying to catch his breath.  The job was done.  His opponent had been defeated and he survived.   Steve could hear a choking sound coming from behind the mask, and it was the first sound he’d heard from the man since the fight started.  Wild blue eyes looked up into his as he observed the assassin, choking on his own blood._

_The Winter Soldier was a myth and here he was, dying at his feet and Steve wasn't sure how he felt about that.  He had killed people before, but he’d never really stuck around long enough to watch the light leave their eyes.  He wanted to know what The Winter Soldier looked like; he wanted to know the man behind the myth.  He knelt down, reaching over to pry the mask off the man’s face._

_All color drained from Steve’s face the second he got a good look at the Winter Soldier._

_“Bucky?”  Steve managed to choke out._

_No, it couldn't be Bucky.  Bucky had fallen from the train.  He saw his best friend fall.  This couldn’t possibly be him, yet The Winter Soldier had Bucky’s face.  He watched in horror as his best friend(?) choked on his own blood, squirming helplessly at his feet, eyes wide and full of pain._

_“Who --”  Cough.  “the hell is Bucky?”  Blood oozed out of the Winter Soldier’s lips with every word he managed to choke out._

_Steve let out a pained cry, quickly trying to distance himself from the man that had his best friend’s face and his best friend’s voice, only to fall back in his desperate scramble to get away.  He sobbed, feeling sick to his stomach.  This wasn't his best friend, yet it_ was, _and seeing him in this state, dying by his own hand killed him inside.  He didn’t know how long he sat on the pavement, watching the man with Bucky’s face struggle to breathe through a mouth full of blood, unable to look away.  It felt like seventy years had passed right by him again and all he could do was watch in silent horror and sadness._

_The worst part was that he couldn't watch this man suffer like this.  The longer he sat there and watched through tear-filled eyes, the more pain he felt.  Steve picked up his shield, gritting his teeth as he forced his feet to move back over to the man that could be Bucky.  He felt sick to his stomach.  He didn't want to do this.  He couldn’t do what he was thinking about doing, but seeing this man in so much pain and choking on his own blood was about the worst way someone could go._

_Steve raised his shield, tears rolling down his cheeks as he swung it down.  He could feel his whole world shattering around him as his shield made contact with flesh, muscle and bone._

_“Steve…”_

“Steve!  STEVE!  Wake up!”  

Steve woke up sobbing, covered in cold sweat and out of breath.   The second his tear-filled eyes fell on Bucky, the blond pulled him into his arms, burying his face in his neck and cried uncontrollably into his chest.

“Steve?”  Bucky’s voice wavered uneasily as he pulled himself up, leaning back against the headboard as he pulled Steve back into his arms.

“Hey pal, you okay?”  Bucky asked as he sifted his fingers through Steve’s hair.  He could feel the blond shaking, tears soaking his neck as he wrapped his arms around his broad shoulders.

“I could have killed you, Buck.”  Steve mumbled into Bucky’s chest, his voice strained as he tried to swallow down the knot in his throat.

“What?  What’re you talkin’ about?”

Steve couldn’t respond right away; his own silent sobs interrupting his thoughts until he worked himself into a fit of hiccups.

“On the bridge-” _hic._  “when we were fighting…”   _hic._  “I could have killed you.”

Steve let out a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down.  He pressed a gentle kiss against Bucky’s neck, as more of a comfort for himself than anything else.  There was no cut there, no scar.  Bucky was alive, and Steve felt so thankful that their fight on the bridge didn't end up with one of them in a body bag.

“I-if I didn't rip off that mask, I never would have known who you were.  I could have killed you.”  Steve sniffled through more sobs and hiccups.

“Steve…”  Bucky was speechless, his mind racing as he started to remember that fight.  He had never had to fight his missions like that before.  He had come close a few times before, but his fights were never that brutal.  None of his missions ever spoke directly to him.  None of his missions had ever recognized him, save for Howard Stark.  

“Hey, look at me, Steve.”  Bucky waited until Steve’s gaze met his and he quickly wiped away a few tears rolling down his friend’s cheeks.  

“I’m right here, with you.  ‘m not dead.  Not even close, actually.  C’mon, Steve.  Rest your head right there.”  Bucky motioned for Steve to rest his head on his chest.  When he did, the brunet smiled weakly, hugging his friend gently.

“You hear my heart beating, Steve?”  Steve nodded his response, sniffling as he pulled himself closer to Bucky, ear pressed flat against his chest.

“The day my heart stops beating is the day you’re allowed to cry over me.  You’re banned from crying over dream-me dying from now on.”  Bucky’s weak smile widened slightly when Steve looked up at him, eyes red but the tears were gone.

“I love you, Bucky.”  Steve whispered as he pulled away from Bucky’s chest, moving back up to press a kiss against his cheek.  The confession wasn't planned, but he felt that it needed to be said.  Steve didn’t care if Bucky didn't love him back, or in the same way he did; it just felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“I love you too, Stevie.”  Bucky whispered back, slowly turning to meet Steve’s gaze before leaning down, pressing a hesitant kiss against the blond’s lips.  Their lips barely grazed against each other, like they were kissing for the first time all over again.  

It was that simple, and Steve suddenly wished he had told Bucky sooner because the brunet was kissing him as if he had waited his whole life to say those three words to him.  Their confessions were so anticlimactic, but so relieving.  Everything suddenly fell into place and they weren't tiptoeing around each other, avoiding saying the words they wanted to in fear of hurting or scaring each other.  Yet both were clinging to each other like they hadn't seen each other in over seventy years, tears threatening to spill again as their lips molded against each others.

“Been wantin’ to say those words since the Stark Expo, Stevie.  Jesus Christ, ya punk, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  Bucky was nearly sobbing into his mouth as he pressed more feverish kisses against his lips, pressing into his body like he suddenly couldn't get enough.

“Jus’ didn’t think I was good enough for you, ya jerk.”  Bucky pulled away at Steve’s confession, glaring down at the blond.  Steve just tried to chase the kiss with his lips, only wanting more.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ say that again, Steve.  You know damn well that you’ve always been the better man.  It’s me that was never good enough for you.”  Steve stopped at Bucky’s confession, eyes wide as he stared up at the brunet as if that last sentence physically hurt him.

“N-no, Bucky.  You are always good enough; you’re the best guy I know, n’ no one could replace you.”  Steve confessed as he pulled the brunet close to him, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.  He let one of his hands wander as Bucky pressed heated, hungry kisses against his lips, tongue swiping into his mouth greedily.  Fingers glided over Bucky’s broad chest, mapping out every single detail from his chest hair to his muscles as tongues mingled and explored each other like this was their very first kiss.

“How long have you been in love with me, Bucky?”  Steve whispered against Bucky’s lips as a thumb slowly wiped away the brunet’s tears.  The touch only calmed Bucky, and he sighed softly against Steve’s lips.

“Since the day I made you ride the cyclone at Coney Island, Stevie.”  Bucky whispered, his lips ghosting along Steve’s jawline slowly.

“Jesus, Buck...we were fourteen then!”

“ _You_ were fourteen.  I was fifteen, Stevie.”  Bucky chuckled softly as he trailed kisses down his neck.  “How long have you been in love with me?”

“Since that day I saw you mackin’ on Louise on our couch just after we moved in together.”

“Mmm...was wondering why you sulked in our room most of the evening.  Never thought you were the one to get jealous, Stevie.”  Steve could feel Bucky’s lips turn up into a soft smile against his neck.

“Well, she wasn't good for you.  I could have told you that from the start.”

“n’ you think you’d do better than her when you were always the one gettin’ us into trouble?”  Steve laughed at that remark as he rested his head on the brunet’s shoulder.  He groaned softly once their lips met, tongues meeting halfway to beat against each other slowly, sensually.

“Well you stuck around, Buck, so I guess I must have been worth it.”  Steve chuckled against Bucky’s lips, taking one of the brunet’s hands in his and lacing their fingers together.

“You were always worth the trouble you got us into, Stevie.  Saw that from the very first moment I met you.”  Bucky’s voice was so full of love and gentleness and it warmed Steve’s heart.  “So um...What d’you say then, Stevie?  Fancy goin’ steady?”

Steve blushed bright red at the question as he pulled away from Bucky’s lips, but he couldn't hide the smile.  The one thing that shocked Steve was that Bucky was smiling right back, big and toothy and one that told Steve that even if he said no, Bucky would still love him just the same.  It was the first smile he’d seen from the brunet, and it tugged at his heartstrings and he quickly swallowed down that emotion.

“Y’know, no one actually says that anymore, Buck.”  Steve whispered.

“I know, but the question still stands, Steve.  I know the times have changed.  I've done my research n’ know that we won’t get hurt or arrested for who we love.  So um...Will you have me as your boyfriend?”  There was a nervousness in Bucky’s voice this time, like he was doubting himself and regretting that he ever asked that question, but there was still so much _hope_ in Bucky’s eyes that Steve would say yes.  It only made Steve’s smile widen before he pressed another kiss to the brunet’s lips.

“Do you really have to ask, Buck?”  A confused look crossed Bucky’s face as Steve pulled away, the smile gone.

“Well I don’t know what you want, Steve.”  

Steve suddenly wanted to see that smile return to Bucky’s lips.  He didn't know how much he’d missed that smile until now.

“Buck, quit bein’ a jerk.  I’ve always wanted to be yours.”  That smile returned and Steve swore his heart skipped a beat.  “My answer is yes, I’ll be your boyfriend for as long as you’ll have me.”

“How does forever sound, then?”

“Think I can deal with that.”  This time, Steve was the one to be swept away in a kiss, and he soaked it all up; the gentle touches that left his skin tingling and the kisses so full of love and emotion that even Steve felt overwhelmed.  But he returned every kiss, fingers tangling in Bucky’s hair as their tongues danced and mingled together like this was always meant to be.

“So what are you doin’ tomorrow, Stevie?”  Bucky mumbled against Steve’s lips.

“Not sure yet.  D’you got somethin’ in mind?”  

“Think I might play it by ear, but I wanna do somethin’ special for you.”  Bucky grinned as he pulled away,  brushing a few strands of hair out of Steve’s eyes.  Steve chose that moment to yawn and curl into his body.

“Sounds good, Buck.  I love you.”  Steve whispered the last sentence in Bucky’s neck.

“I love you too, Stevie.”  Bucky whispered back as he pressed a kiss to the blond’s forehead.  They stayed silent for a few minutes, letting their feelings _really_ set in.  It was almost daunting.  This was _real._  They were a _couple_ now, not just best friends. _They didn't have to hide it._  

“Why didn't you tell me you were interested in the fellas?”  Bucky asked, letting his fingers glide down Steve’s spine slowly.

“I’m not.  I’m only interested in _you_.”  Steve mumbled sleepily.

“So you still like women then?”

“Well, I dunno...not really?  Not in the way you like them.  No one else sparked my interest except you n’ Peggy.”  And with that, Steve pulled Bucky into a chaste kiss, lips barely ghosting over the brunet’s.  He was tired, and Bucky could tell just by the way Steve curled into his body and yawned.

“Mmm...never loved the dames as much as I love you, Stevie.”  Bucky said as he pulled the blankets back up over the both of them.  It was a signal to them both that they needed to go back to sleep.  They were tired, and Steve was okay; Bucky made sure of it as he tucked Steve under his arm and slowly drifted off.

\---

_ **November 21st, 2016** _

“I love you.”  

It was the first thing Bucky whispered into Steve’s ear that morning.  The blond was still fast asleep, curled into Bucky’s chest like he wasn’t aware of how _large_ he was.  He almost didn’t want to wake him.  Just seeing Steve start to stir and hide his eyes from the sunlight peeking through the windows made his heart skip a beat.  Steve was his _boyfriend_.  That was a word he hadn’t really used before.  He never had one of those before, _but it suddenly felt so right_.  

“I love you too, Buck.”  Steve’s voice was hoarse, almost grating before he cleared his throat.  Just the way Steve sounded in the morning made Bucky’s heart race.  He pressed a gentle kiss to the blond’s cheek before he laid back down, letting Steve curl back into his body.  

“So what’s the plan today?”

“Well I’m plannin’ on sweepin’ you off your feet.  Can’t do that if we lay in bed the whole day though.”  Steve shivered the moment Bucky trailed his metal fingers down his spine, only to sit up moments later.

“Well, I guess we better get up then.  C’mere, Buck.”  Steve said as he leaned over Bucky’s body.  Bucky bit his lip as he looked up into Steve’s eyes and he knew just what the blond was asking for.  He slowly leaned up, right hand resting on the back of Steve’s neck as he pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.  

“So you think we can make your ma’s famous banana coconut pancakes for breakfast, Stevie?”  Bucky asked as he sat up moments later, combing his hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah, I think we can do that.  You wanna cut the bananas while I make the batter, then?”  Steve asked as he stood up, Bucky following suit shortly after.  

“Yeah, sounds good.  That gives me time to make a few calls anyways.”  Bucky said with a smile as he followed Steve into the kitchen.  

“Mmm...you think you can beat me?  Doesn’t take too long to make the batter, Buck.”

“You forget how well I work with knives, babe.”  Bucky’s smile turned into a grin as he reached over to grab the bananas and a knife.  He twirled the blade around in his fingers briefly just to make a point before he sliced into one of the bananas, peeling off the skin just as quickly as he had cut it in half.

Steve was working just as quickly as he was, but Bucky knew he’d beat the blond in this race, seeing he only had one ingredient to work with, whereas Steve had a handful of other things to grab, measure and mix together.  He had three bananas peeled and cut by the time Steve had all of the ingredients out and measured.

“Looks like I win, babe.”  Bucky grinned as he pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek.

“Well you had a head start and your job was simple, while I’m still here doing all the prep work.  So unfair.”  Steve shot Bucky a quick glance before he started stirring all the ingredients together.

“I’ll make it up to you later, Stevie.”  Bucky whispered as he pressed himself up against Steve’s back, hands resting on his boyfriend’s hips.  He pressed three gentle kisses down the blond’s neck before he stepped away, slinking back into the bedroom to make a few calls.

_Ring...Ring…_

_“Hey, Sarge.  You callin’ for another haircut?  You know you only get one free one before I start charging.”_

“Well, my hair is lookin’ a bit rough around the edges, but that’s not what I’m callin’ about.”  Bucky paced the floor nervously, a foot kicking at a pair of jeans he’d discarded the night before.  He quickly tossed them in the hamper to get washed, biting down on his lip.

_“You know you haven’t called to check in in over a week.  I was starting to get worried.  Is something wrong?  You had me worried the last time you called.  Even Stark called to voice his concerns after that outburst.”_

“‘m fine.  I handled it, n’ I’m gettin’ better.  It’s just goin’ a bit slower than usual, but I think things are going to get a lot better from here on out.”

_“And what makes you think that, old man?”_

“Well um...Steve and I are um...a couple now.”  Bucky couldn't help but grin when he told Natalia the news.  “And um...I was wondering if you could help me get ready for our date tonight.  I want everything to be a surprise for Steve.”

_“Wait, hold on...did I hear that right?  You and Steve are an item now?  I did not see that coming.  When did this happen?”_

“I’ll tell you the details later if you agree to help me.  I've got some ideas but I feel like I’m in over my head.  Can you get Sam over here too?  I need Steve out of the apartment for a few hours.”

_“You’re lucky I’m actually in the same city as Wilson, James, and I’m really happy for you, and for Steve.  My ETA will be around 1 pm.  Will you be ready by then?”_

“Yeah, I should be.  Hey, I gotta go.  Steve said breakfast is ready.  I’ll see you in a few, Nat.”

_“You owe me, Barnes.”_

The line cut out moments later and Bucky set his phone back on his nightstand before heading back into the kitchen.  Steve had set two large stacks of pancakes on the counter, drizzled in syrup and powdered sugar; just how Bucky had always liked it.  His mouth watered at the sight as he climbed onto one of the bar stools.  Steve was pouring them both some orange juice as Bucky pulled his stack of pancakes closer to him.

“This looks so amazing, Steve.”  Bucky licked his lips, reaching for his fork, but stopped when he felt Steve’s hot breath tickling his ear.

“Not as amazing as you, Buck.”

Bucky blushed at the compliment, a grin creeping across his face, and he was sure he hadn't smiled this much since before the war.  Steve sure was enjoying the sight, because the brunet caught him staring.  He flashed Steve a quick wink before he dug into his stack of pancakes, mouth full and cheeks stuffed.

“You gonna eat those or what?”  Bucky’s mouth was full as he spoke, still trying to manage a grin.

“Oh, uh...yeah sorry.”  Steve stuttered, trying to hide a blush as he started digging into his plate of pancakes.

As soon as the taste of banana and coconut hit Bucky’s tongue, he was in heaven.  With the sweetness of the syrup and the powdered sugar, everything just tasted _ten times better_.  Steve seemed to be enjoying it just as much as he was and he almost wondered when the blond had last made this meal.

“So what've you got planned for tonight, Buck?  Or you still not tellin’ me?”

“Still a secret, Stevie.”  Bucky said with a sly grin as he shoveled another forkful of pancake into his mouth.  He was actually _dying_ to tell Steve what he had in store for him, but the surprise of it all would be well worth the wait.  So Bucky bit his lip and finished off half of his stack of pancakes as he tried to brainstorm certain ideas for his night out with Steve.

“Anyways, when was the last time you made this, Steve?”  Bucky asked as he took a large gulp of his orange juice.

“Think the morning you shipped out.  Scraped up the last of my savings to get the ingredients.”

“That was fuckin’ stupid, Steve.”  Bucky glared, but his lips quickly turned up into a grin as he shoved Steve playfully.  “You know you didn’t have any income coming in.  You could have starved!”

“I've definitely done stupider.”  Steve said as he took a sip of his orange juice.  

“You’ll have to fill me in later, Stevie.”  Bucky winked as he finished off his plate of pancakes and made a move to clean up after the mess the both of them had made.  

“Maybe over dinner or somethin’.  I wanna hear all the gritty little details of your missions.  If I start gettin’ gray hairs over these stories though, you bet your ass I’m gonna kick you all the way into next week.”

\---

Bucky had cleaned himself up and somehow managed to trim down his scruff quite nicely by the time Natalia and Sam showed up at their doorstep that afternoon.  Steve was quite surprised by the visitors, nearly protesting when Sam tried to drag him out of the apartment without some sort of explanation.  The only encouragement Steve got was from Bucky, who had told him to go out and have a bit of fun.  Moments later, he whipped his phone out of the pocket of his sweats and texted Sam.

 

> _Try and convince Steve to get a new suit.  The one he’s got now is shit._

Then Natalia and him got to work.

“Alright, what’s the plan, Barnes?”  A smirk danced across Natalia’s face as she sat down in a chair.

“Well um...I was thinkin’ of makin’ Steve a nice dinner n’ maybe takin’ him out dancin’.”

Bucky watched as Natalia sat back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other as she pursed her lips.

“Alright, that seems doable.  Do you know what you want to cook?”

“Absolutely no idea.  I haven’t planned that far ahead.”  Bucky said with a blush, feeling quite ashamed that he hadn't thought of a decent plan before calling Natalia over.

“Jesus, alright.  Well lets see what you've got in your fridge and we’ll go from there.”  Natalia suggested as she pushed herself out of the chair and slinked over to the fridge _like she owned the place_.   

“Are you thinking something romantic with a bottle of wine, candles and roses?”

“I don’t think roses are Steve’s style but I’m sure he’d go for the wine and maybe a candle or two.”  Bucky said with a shrug, soon joining Natalia in the kitchen.  

“And where do you plan on taking him dancing?”

“I don’t know.  Probably nowhere.  Steve’s not the greatest dancer, but maybe we could just go dance in the park or somethin’.”  Bucky shrugged a shoulder as he watched Natalia dig through their fridge.

“How about chicken kiev over rice pilaf and steamed broccoli?  You’ve got most of the ingredients, save for fresh tarragon, parsley,”  Natalia then moved to dig through their cupboards.  “...panko breading and rice pilaf.”

“Sure, sounds good.  How long does it take to make?”

“Couple hours, now get changed.  I’m not having you going out to help me get supplies looking like you just rolled out of bed.”  Natalia was already shooing him into the bedroom to change, barely giving him enough time to think about what was happening before she shut the door behind him.

“Sweats aren't proper attire for grocery shopping?”

“Not even in the modern world, Barnes.  They may be comfy but I will pull down those pants in the middle of an intersection if I ever catch you outside of this apartment in sweats and you’re not going for a morning run.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and huffed as he changed into a pair of jeans and pulled a leather jacket over his shoulders.

“Also what kind of songs are you two gonna be dancing to in the park?”  Natalia asked as Bucky walked out of the bedroom, combing his fingers through his hair.  He shrugged as he shoved his hands in his pockets, following Natalia out of his apartment.

“You don’t know?  Do I have to do everything?   I might as well be going out on a date with Steve!”  Natalia threw up her hands as she led Bucky to her car.

“Well what can I say?  Steve usually does the cooking and I do the cleaning.  He’s also not a huge fan of my music taste so I wouldn't know what he’d dance to.”  Bucky gave Nat a halfhearted smile as he climbed into the passengers seat.

“Alright, well we’ll figure out something when we get back to your apartment.”  Natalia was already driving towards their first destination; a candle shop.  Parking would be tricky, as traffic was always horrible, especially at this hour, but Natalia managed to find a spot a block down the road.  

“So how did this all start, James?”

Bucky bit his lip at the question, looking down at his feet for a brief moment as he mulled over the answer in his mind.  He carefully climbed out of the car, looking down at the ground.

“Well um...first of all, Steve was unhappy with the kiss we shared at that baseball game.  Wanted to have a proper kiss, ya know?”  Bucky blushed, unable to make eye contact with Natalia as they entered the store, the scent of hundreds of different aromas from different candles assaulting his senses.  

“He came home from grocery shopping right after we moved in n’ asked me if we could have a do-over.  We’d been kissing ever since then, but the other night Steve had a nightmare; he woke up screaming and crying.  I calmed him down n' he said he loved me.  I asked him if he wanted to be my boyfriend and he said yes.”

Bucky picked up a few candles and sniffed before setting them down.  He wasn't satisfied, but he mimicked what Natalia was doing before his eyes fell on a display of candlestick holders.  There were a few that caught his eye, sleek looking and not too ornate.  They would definitely go with the apartment’s decor, so he grabbed two and joined Natalia in picking out some candlesticks.  

The checkout was quick and the cashier was friendly enough.  They walked out together, only for Natalia to leave him waiting outside of an electronics store, telling him that she’d be back in a few minutes.  Turns out, she’d picked up an auxiliary cord along with a small, portable speaker so the two of them could actually hear the music they would be dancing to that night.  The grocery store was also easy to navigate and they were in and out in ten minutes with the four items they needed to make dinner and a bottle of wine that despite the price, Natalia insisted was worth it, before they headed back to the apartment.  

The first part of making Chicken Kiev wasn't so difficult; mix butter with the spices they had gotten at the grocery store and freeze it for two hours.  Natalia had him put that together while she started decorating the apartment, climbing on furniture (and once, his shoulders) to hang what she called ‘fairy lights’ on the ceiling to ‘set the mood’.  Bucky nearly protested, saying that was too much and he was in no mood to take them down after their date was over, but Natalia had him convinced the moment she turned off the lights in the apartment and switched on the ‘fairy lights’.  

The lights reminded Bucky of stars; stars he couldn't see in Brooklyn, but remembered so well when he was lying in the snow in so much pain.  Looking at the stars gave him peace, just like these lights were suddenly giving him peace now.  He remembered reading about the stars in school and it _fascinated_ him.  He remembered telling Steve once that he was going to go up there to see the stars one day, and the blond of course, said that was ridiculous.  

The two spent a good chunk of an hour picking out songs to put into a playlist on Bucky’s phone.  A few were relatively new, but there were some that brought back _so many memories_.  He remembered dancing with dames to this song, but yearning to dance with _Steve._  Steve never danced; maybe he would tonight.

Once the songs were picked out and put on a playlist, Natalia spent about ten minutes neatening up Bucky’s hair, shaving around the sides just the way he liked and trimmed up the longer strands until he was pleased.  The brunet texted Sam for a status report while he waited for her to finish up.

> _Convinced Steve to get a new suit.  Took him a bit to come around.  We’re looking at a few now._

A few pictures followed the text Sam sent, and Bucky smiled, but decided not to give his opinion.  This would be Steve’s choice, though he _really liked the second one_.  He bit his lip, standing once Natalia said she was finished.  

Natalia had Bucky helping her with dessert; tartlets with lemon curd and whipped cream.  The recipe was simple and he enjoyed licking the lemon curd off the spoon once everything was baked and put together.  Natalia put three tartlets each on two small plates before setting them on the top shelf in the fridge.  She ate the other six, taking that as half of the payment for her assistance.

The two assassins then got to work on the main course and the sides.  Bucky flattened the chicken with his left hand easily, while Natalia placed small cubes of the spiced butter he had frozen onto the flattened meat and rolled it up.  The two followed the recipe nearly to the exact specifications Natalia had told him; they just didn't have time to refrigerate the _damn chicken_ for another two hours.  The sides were simple and took no less than ten minutes to complete.

> _Will be heading to the apartment in 15 minutes.  Convinced Steve to get a hair cut._

Thankfully, the chicken was already frying in the saute pan and wouldn't take too long to finish.  Bucky was nearly ready and Natalia rushed him off to get changed into something a little nicer.  The suit Natalia had picked out for him during his very first shopping trip _still_ looked impeccable on him.  Bucky bit his lip as he buttoned up the coat and straightened his tie.  

By the time Bucky stepped out of the bedroom, the sun was setting and Natalia had vanished.  She had apparently already set the mood; the candles on the kitchen table lit, table set and food plated _beautifully_ and the small, portable speakers were sitting on the coffee table with a small note scribbled on a piece of paper.

> _‘You owe me!  
>  _ _xo Nat’_

Bucky grabbed the wine out of the fridge just as he heard Sam’s muffled voice stop just outside of the apartment door.  He could feel his heart racing.   _This was it._

_“Alright man, I’m really happy for you.  Truly.  You take it easy okay?  Don’t do anything stupid.”_

Bucky rolled his eyes.  Steve was _always_ doing something stupid.  The door swung open just as Bucky was pouring two glasses of wine.

“Bucky?  Hey, you here?  It’s dark in here, and what’s that smell?  It smells amazing!”

 _The hallway was dark._  It wasn't lit by the ‘fairy lights’ so it gave the illusion that Bucky was _out_.  He set the glasses on the table slowly.

“Yeah, ‘m in the kitchen, and don’t you dare turn on those lights!”

“Oh, so you got _mood lighting?_ ”  

Steve emerged from the hallway slowly, leaning against the sharp edge where the hallway met the kitchen as his eyes took in the sight.  

“Wow Buck--”

“I know, right?”  Bucky stepped up to the blond slowly, eyes shining and his lips curling up into the biggest grin.

“You look like a million bucks.”  Steve gasped, grinning right back as his baby blues looked him up and down.

“You look like ten million then, Stevie.  Jesus that suit looks like it was made for you.”  Bucky quickly looked him over.  The three piece suit, all black save for the white button-up shirt underneath suited Steve a little too well.  All Bucky wanted to do was tear it off him and touch him.  

“C’mere.”  Bucky pulled Steve close, right hand resting on the back of the blond’s neck as he pressed a kiss to his lips, tongue licking into his mouth slowly as he inched closer.  He could never get enough of Steve’s kisses, and just the way he kissed _back_ was heavenly.  It knocked the air right out of his lungs, and the brunet was gripping onto his boyfriend, kissing him feverishly _because he really couldn't get enough._

“Mmph...Buck.  C’mon--”   _Kiss._  “I think our food’s gettin’ cold.”

Oh, right.  Food.  Bucky would be content for the rest of his life if Steve’s kisses counted as a meal.  They weren't, and that _almost_ made his stomach drop in disappointment at the thought.  Instead, Bucky lead Steve over to their small dining table with their main course already set out.  

“This looks amazing, Bucky.  What is it?”  Bucky watched as Steve prodded the chicken with a fork.

“Chicken Kiev.”

“Sounds Russian.  You make this?”  Steve asked as he cut into the chicken.

“I had a bit of help.”  Bucky bit his lip nervously.  Hell, he couldn't take all the credit.  “Natalia stopped by.”

“And the lights?”  Steve’s eyes flickered up to the ceiling briefly, but his eyes rarely wandered away from Bucky.  It was like he couldn't get enough.

“Natalia’s idea.  By the way, I’m keeping them.”  Bucky cut into his chicken and took a bite and _Jesus was it good_.  The spices danced on his tongue and nearly made him weep with delight.  Steve seemed to be feeling the same because moments later, he heard the blond blurt out--

“Oh my god!  This is amazing.”

Bucky wanted to say ‘ _I know!_ ’, but instead, donned a proud grin as he wolfed down another bite of chicken.  The wine wasn't bad either.  He could ignore the price of a wine this good, but he’d definitely try to make it last.  Two glasses would be enough.  He knew he couldn't get drunk off two glasses of wine, and Steve couldn't get drunk at all, but that didn’t mean their alcohol intake could be restricted.

“So this is why you had Sam drag me out of the apartment?”  Steve said as he stuffed his mouth full of rice and broccoli.

“And to get you a better suit.”

“What was wrong with my old one?”  Steve made a move to take a sip of his wine.

“It looks like shit.”  Bucky smirked as he scooped up a mound of rice.  

“You haven’t even seen me wear it!”

“Yeah but I can tell it’s shit even when it’s on a hanger.”

“You’re such a jerk.”  Steve grinned.

“And you’re a fuckin’ punk.”  Bucky smiled right back as he cleaned off his plate.  Steve did the same moments later.  The brunet went to go put the dishes in the dishwasher, but was quickly stopped.

“Let me do the cleaning for once, Buck.  Jesus, you made this nice meal--”

“With some help!”  Bucky interrupted.

“ _\--with some help_ , and you want me to sit here and twiddle my thumbs as _you_ clean?  Hell no, Barnes.”  Steve swiped Bucky’s plate before he could protest and all he could do was purse his lips when Steve placed the dishes in the dishwasher.

“So um...you wanna go for a walk, Stevie?  I was thinkin’ of goin’ down to the park by the bridge, maybe look at the city lights a bit.”  

Bucky knew he couldn't just flat out ask Steve to dance.  That would result in a ‘No’ with a capital N, so he’d ease the blond into it.  He stood up slowly and made his way to the coffee table, pocketing the small speaker and the wire that came with it.  He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Steve’s strong arms wrapping around his waist, only to relax and blush when the blond’s lips brushed against his neck.

“Yeah, think I could go for a walk with my best guy.”  Steve’s eyes flicked towards the bridge just outside their window and Bucky could feel the blond’s lips turn up into a smile against his neck.  The sky was dark and the city lights were twinkling across the water and the sight made his heart skip a beat.  It was beautiful.

“I've also got dessert in the fridge for later, if you want.”  Bucky spoke softly as he turned around in Steve’s arms, piercing blue eyes gazing up into his boyfriend’s with so much adoration and care that he swore he saw the blond start to tear up.  He pressed a gentle kiss to his lips moments later, keeping Steve close.  

“But c’mon, the city lights are waiting for us.”  Bucky whispered as he pulled away, slipping his right hand into Steve’s left.  The thing he hated most was stepping away from Steve, but the squeeze of his hand reminded the brunet that he wasn't too far behind.  They left the apartment hand in hand, and Bucky’s eyes scanned the horizon briefly as the cold air assaulted their large frames.  It was habit and it didn’t seem to bother Steve one bit.  

They walked the short few blocks towards the park, stopping at the large cement walkway that overlooked the Brooklyn bridge.  Steve pressed close, their elbows brushing together as they admired the view.

“Remember when the view wasn’t half as beautiful, Buck?  New York wasn’t even close to being lit up this bright.”

Bucky pressed his lips together in a hard line for a moment, racking his brain for any memory of the view they had shared of the Manhattan skyline from any spot close to this.  All he could come up with was information about the surrounding area from that time period, mixed in with a few very short memories of Steve tripping over his shoelaces and Bucky yelling at him for not tying them properly, or getting candy from Mrs. Berkovitz as payment for washing her windows or weeding her garden.

“Sorry, Stevie.  I can’t quite remember.”  There were still parts of his past life with Steve that were fuzzy.  The memories would just be be on the tip of his tongue, and sometimes he really _tried_ to remember, but Steve never blamed him if he fell short.  He squeezed Bucky’s hand and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“The view is still amazing, Buck.”  Steve was still looking at him as he said those words and Bucky swallowed hard.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ sap, Steve.”  His throat felt tight as he spoke, but he grinned, toothy and crooked and it made Steve’s own face light up with happiness.  He figured this would be a great time to ask Steve for a dance, so he stepped away as he fished out his phone and the small speaker, getting it all set up.  

“What’s this?”  Steve asked.  Bucky set the two devices on a nearby park bench and flipped through the playlist slowly before he picked a song and pressed Play.  The song was slow, and a males deep voice echoed through the hair, the melody slow and soothing.  It turned out to be “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley.

“Care to dance, Stevie?”  Bucky reached out for Steve’s hand but the blond gave him a hesitant look.  

“You know I’m not a big fan of dancing.”  Steve forced a sad smile, eyes dropping to the ground for a moment.

“Still looking for the right partner, then?”  Bucky dropped his hand the moment he saw the hurt in Steve’s eyes.  The remark even upset him, but he wasn't entirely sure why.  The words sounded familiar to him, but he recalled never saying them.  Someone else said them; someone that Steve was close to.

 _Peggy_.  Shit.  He fucked up.

“Shit.  ‘m sorry, Stevie.”  Bucky tried to backpedal, moving to turn off the music.  “We don’t hafta dance if you don’t want to.  I c’n turn off the music n’ we can go home and finish dessert.”

_Take my hand…_

Steve stopped him, right hand grabbing for his left and pulling him close.  Bucky’s breath caught in his throat, blue eyes staring into Steve’s.

_And take my whole life too…_

A warm hand rested on his waist and Bucky bit his lip, lifting his right hand up to Steve’s shoulder.  Steve never looked away and the brunet could still see the hurt in his eyes, but he was _healing_.

“It’s okay, Buck.  You always were the right partner for me.”  Steve forced a smile, and Bucky drew him closer, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.  They hadn't yet started to dance but the atmosphere and their company soothed the sting of the remark.

They started dancing to the next song, swaying a bit too slow to the melody but it didn't bother them.  Steve was constantly looking down at their feet, making sure he wasn't stepping on Bucky’s toes.  The brunet grinned, trying to stifle a small giggle at Steve’s attempt at dancing.  He shouldn't laugh; it was rude, and he should have been a better teacher before the war, but the blond had terrible coordination back then.  He still had terrible coordination when it came to dancing.   _Fighting_ , however, was another story.

The song playing was built more for a waltz; it was more modern.  The soft lull of the guitars was nice, and the voice wasn't too assaulting and the melody was nice.  He would have to thank Natalia for introducing him to this song.  Steve didn't seem to mind it either, but the lyrics stuck out to them both.

_I will never let you fall, I’ll stand up with you forever…_

Steve pressed closer at those words, fingers tightening around his left hand.  The metal plates whirred and adjusted to the pressure, taking seconds to fit back into place, but they continued to dance, slow and slightly out of sync.

“I love you,” Bucky whispered, not looking away from Steve’s sad eyes.  The guilt was back again, but the three words dulled the pain.  

“ _I love you,_ ”  Bucky repeated as if he were forgiving Steve for not reaching far enough.  The metal hand squeezed Steve’s hand back gently, as if he were trying to tell the blond that _at least they had each other now_.  Screw the past; they could take on this world just like they did the last.

“‘m sorry, Buck.  I love you too.”  There was that damn sad smile again.  Bucky kissed that smile right off of Steve’s lips, right hand tangling in the short blond locks.

The song picked up moments later, the guitars loud and drums making an entrance but Bucky refused to pull away, lips pressing Steve’s mouth open so he could lick into it and keep him close.  The blond swayed into the music and Bucky couldn't hide the grin against his lips, only to break away and start laughing the second the song changed.

 _The next song was fucking ridiculous._  It broke the tension.  

The song was upbeat, cheerful and neither of them could determine if the voice singing the song belonged to a male or female.  It didn't really matter, but Bucky decided to see what song Natalia had put on his phone.

> _‘First Dance’_ by Never Shout Never

When Bucky turned back around, Steve was already dancing and he looked just as ridiculous as the song sounded.  He roared with laughter as the blond attempted to keep a beat, and seeing him dance all on his own, without a partner backing him up for just those few brief moments made him feel so _good_.  Steve was blushing, but his smile reminded Bucky of the sun and eating cotton candy on the pier as he shuffled around, twisting his hips around and doing _who knows what_ with those bulky arms of his.  He decided to join him, bouncing around and throwing his arms up into the air, their laughs like music echoing into the night sky and littering the blackness with stars of their own.

They danced like fools until the song ended, and they were both left laughing and clinging to each other when a slow song started playing again.  

“Jesus, Buck…”  Steve panted softly, eyes sparkling in the moonlight, the surrounding lamps giving his freshly trimmed hair a golden glow.  His throat was tight, emotion constricting the words that wanted to escape his lips.  “I haven’t heard you laugh like that since the war.”

“Well if you keep dancing like that, I’ll keep laughing.”  Steve pulled him into a hug that squeezed the air right out of his lungs despite the slight insult to his dancing skills.  They decided to relax on the bench for a bit, curled into each other and stared at the city lights as the music played.  Most were slow songs, but there was always a cheerful and silly song to follow the particularly _heavy_ songs that made their hearts ache and stomachs clench.  

Some songs that played were from their past, and Steve seemed to like those the most.  Bucky didn't remember a lot of them, save for Sinatra.  He remembered loving Sinatra.  He honestly didn't think he could fall even more in love with Steve after tonight, but seeing him dance and hearing him laugh like that for the first time in _decades_ made his stomach flip and his heart skip _way too many beats_.

Bucky would give Steve the world if he could, just to hear him laugh like that again and to see that _look_ in the blond’s bright blue eyes that told him that the only person that mattered was _him._  Of course that wasn’t true.  Steve cared so much for Peggy, and Natalia, Sam and the Avengers, but he seemed to have saved that laugh for him and only him.  

“Lets go back to the apartment, Stevie.  It’s gettin’ a bit too cold.”  Bucky shivered lightly, pressing his face into Steve’s neck.  He took in his scent before pressing a gentle kiss against his pulse, sighing contently as an arm wrapped around his waist.  

“Alright, Buck.”  Steve whispered back, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead before he broke away to stand up.  He helped Bucky to his feet, giving the brunet enough time to shut off the music and pocket both electronic devices before they walked the short distance home.

“ _Jesus fucking Christ, Buck!_ ”  Steve hissed the second Bucky slipped his metal hand underneath the back of Steve’s shirt, pressing the cold palm against his lower back.

“Language, Steve!”  Bucky chuckled before he pulled the hand away, biting back a smile when Steve glared at him.

“Aw, come on.  I was just teasin’.”  Bucky pouted as they entered their apartment building and started climbing the stairs to the fourth floor.  

“I know.”  Steve’s voice softened, and Bucky saw the loving smile that tugged at the corners of the blond’s lips as they shuffled back into their apartment.  Bucky instantly went for the tartlets in the fridge, fishing out the two small plates as Steve headed into their bedroom.  Was it theirs?  Technically, the answer was yes because Bucky had never set foot in the room Steve had set up for him.

“Tonight was amazing, Buck.  Thank you.”  Steve said as they climbed onto the bed to eat their dessert and wind down for the night.

Bucky loosened his tie and pressed close to Steve as he took a bite of the first tartlet.  It tasted just as amazing as dinner had, and Steve seemed to enjoy his as he had scarfed his three tartlets down in minutes.  The brunet chose to savor the dessert, dabbing a bit of whipped cream onto the tip of Steve’s nose.  He kissed the spot off moments later and sat back, finishing off his last tartlet.

“I want to undress you.”  Bucky whispered moments later, setting his empty plate aside.  He wasn't trying to instigate anything; he was exhausted and he knew it would be uncomfortable for the both of them to fall asleep with their formal attire still on.  

“Alright, as long as I can return the favor, Buck.”  

“Of course, Stevie.”  Bucky said with a soft smile, pressing a gentle kiss to Steve’s lips as he crawled onto his lap.  The blond kicked off his shoes as fingers trailed down his silk tie, loosening the knot slowly.  Strong hands rested on the brunet’s hips, and neither of them could look away from each other as they slowly started peeling off their clothes.

Their sport coats went first, and Bucky was tempted to kiss away the small gasp that escaped Steve’s lips as his knuckles brushed against the blond’s abdomen, fingers working at the buttons.  Instead, Steve made the first move, leaning up to press a feverish kiss to Bucky’s lips.  A warm, skillful tongue licked into his mouth as Steve untied his tie, slipping it off slowly.  

Bucky nipped at Steve’s lower lip, tongue licking into his mouth as he mimicked what the blond was doing; untying his tie just as swiftly as Steve had before he returned to unbuttoning his shirt.  He felt the blond shiver when Bucky pressed his hands to Steve’s chest, moving his fingers up to his shoulders and down his arms to slide off the shirt he was wearing.

Steve was working on getting Bucky out of his shirt when the brunet’s lips ghosted over his jawline.  The kisses against the blond’s neck were hot and wet and determined to leave a mark.  The marks never lasted long, but Bucky was content on seeing a small red bruises against pale skin.

“Steve…”  Bucky choked out, voice barely above a whisper as he felt fingers brushing against the scarring on his left shoulder.  He could feel a knot forming in his throat as Steve leaned down to pepper quick, gentle kisses against the harsh line of metal and scarred flesh and his whole body stiffened in the blond’s arms.  His left hand gripped tightly onto his boyfriend’s bicep, and he desperately wanted to push Steve away.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Loving every part of you.”

“Why?”  Bucky’s voice shook, eyes wide as tears threatened to spill.

“Well if you can’t love every part of yourself, someone has to.  I love our history together.” _Kiss_.  “And even though it tears me apart at times,”   _Kiss_.  “I love the man on the bridge who forgot who he was, who fought with such tenacity and strength.”   _Kiss._

“Most of all, I love the man you've become.”  Steve looked up into Bucky’s eyes, only to kiss away the tears rolling down his cheeks moments later.  

The tight grip on Steve’s bicep loosened slightly as Bucky leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss against the blond’s lips.  His actions were shaky and hesitant, but he allowed Steve to start working on getting his slacks off.

“I love you, Stevie.”  Bucky exhaled slowly as he helped Steve with his pants, slipping off his shoes and socks before he stepped out of his slacks.  It was quite difficult to maneuver out of his pants while hovering over Steve’s lap, but neither of them minded.  Bucky pressed another hesitant kiss against the blond’s lips as shaky fingers started to work at his belt.

Steve lifted his hips when Bucky started pulling his slacks down, never breaking the kiss.  Their lips moved slowly, tongues swiping languidly at each other and the brunet tangled his fingers in Steve’s hair.  This was what peace felt like; lying in bed not having to worry about anything and kissing the night away.  It didn't take long for them to finally get settled into bed, and it was unusual for Bucky to curl up in Steve’s arms, but he was too exhausted to care.    
They drifted off together, wrapped up in each others’ arms.  Bucky’s face was pressed into Steve’s chest, the sound of the blonds’ steady heartbeat put him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Russian Translation:**  
>  So you see me as a weapon?
> 
> Thanks again to [lovealetterbomb](http://lovealetterbomb.tumblr.com/) for editing this chapter!
> 
> This is what I imagine Steve to look like in his new suit:  
> 


	5. In Your Eyes, I Lost My Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is still has his bad days, and they seem to be getting worse. He finally has the courage to open up about some of the things that he had gone through, but spending time with Steve is slowly bringing him out of the shadows. Their little romance gets interrupted when Stark invites them to vacation in his up-state New York cabin for a few weeks. It all heads south from there when their plans get interrupted by Ultron. Upon Steve's return, Bucky faces a very hard decision.
> 
> **Trigger Warnings: mention of HYDRA Trash Party**  
>  HTP Mention starts: "When Rumlow was my handler,"  
> HTP mention ends: "It felt like I deserved the humiliation."  
> If you wish to avoid the mention of HYDRA Trash Party and the horrible things that were done to Bucky, please hit Ctrl+F to find those phrases so you know exactly where it is in the story to skip. I do not glorify what Rumlow had done to Bucky and I'm unforgiving in that sense. HYDRA is truly a terrible organization and I am trying to bring that out by not glorifying Bucky's treatment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never caught my breath  
> Every second I'm without you I'm a mess  
> Ever know each other  
> Trust these words are stones  
> Why cuts aren't healing  
> Learning how to love

**_December 2nd, 2016_ **

Bucky still had his bad days.  On those days, he wouldn’t even let Steve near him.  It didn’t happen as often as it used to, but every time it did, his heart would sink right to the floor.  Today, Bucky crashed hard, locking himself up in Steve’s bathroom and refusing to communicate with him at all.  

Bucky’s bad day started when Steve was curled up on the couch, sketching a simple portrait of his boyfriend when a shrill voice erupted from his phone, singing the most ridiculous song he’d ever heard.  The song made him cringe, but his reaction was nothing compared to Bucky’s.

 _‘...Oh, tiptoe from the garden_  
_By the garden of the willow tree  
_ _And tiptoe through the tulips with me...’_

Bucky went white as a sheet the moment the song started.  He had been lazing around in a pair of old sweats, researching the files Natasha had dumped onto the internet most of the evening, trying to catch up on everything he’d missed since Shield disbanded.  Seconds later, Steve’s laptop was in two pieces and Bucky had locked himself in their bathroom.  

“Nat, what did you do to my phone?”  Steve hissed the second he answered his phone.

_“What makes you think I did it?”_

“Cut the crap, Nat.  Sam hasn’t been in the apartment since Bucky and I started dating, and you know I wouldn’t let Tony anywhere near this place unless it was a national emergency.”  Steve spat as he tapped the broken laptop Bucky had ripped apart with his foot.

_“Fine, you caught me.  I just changed the ringtone to something a bit more fun.  I thought you’d get a laugh out of it.”_

Steve could hear Nat’s small chuckle on the other end of the line, but all he could do was stare sadly at his bathroom door.

“Well I’m not laughing, Natasha.  The song upset my boyfriend.”

_“Oh…How upset?”_

“He broke my laptop and he’s currently barricaded himself in the bathroom.”  

 _“Oh…”_ Steve could almost hear the moment things clicked in her mind.  “ _Oh!  Oh my god, I’m so sorry.  I should have known.”_

“Known what?”

_“Steve...This is a really heavy topic to discuss over the phone.”_

“Just tell me, Natasha.”  Steve said through gritted teeth.  He could deal with the consequences later.

_“Are you sure?”_

“I’m sure as fuck am sure, Natasha!  Now tell me, because I need answers!”  Steve nearly shouted into the phone’s receiver.

_“Language!  Jeez, Cap.”_

“Don’t even go there, Natasha.”  Steve was shaking by the time Natasha finally started talking again.

_“Alright, well...Some of the torture methods the Red Room used on me were probably used on Bucky.  Most were psychological; sensory deprivation, stress positions, sleep deprivation, mostly to get their prisoners to comply and obey their orders...but there was one form of torture that still affects me to this day.  I can’t listen to Amon Amarth without feeling sick to my stomach.  Now you can probably see where I’m going with this...”_

Steve went silent, the gears in his mind locking into place and it suddenly made sense.  

“I’ve gotta go, Nat.  I’ll talk to you later.”

Steve hung up shortly after, sighing heavily as the topic of _torture_ suddenly sank in.  It made him feel uneasy.  He had avoided the thought that Bucky had been _tortured_ simply for the fact that Bucky had never really gave an in-depth explanation of what happened to him.  His boyfriend had finally started to open up to him about his experience in Hydra, but what he was told only scratched the surface.  

Steve’s hand shook as he flipped through the settings on his phone to change his ringtone to something that wouldn’t be so upsetting to Bucky.  He couldn’t even fathom the atrocities Bucky had to endure, and having to listen to ‘Tiptoe Through the Tulips’ was horrifying enough when it had only played for a few seconds.

With a heavy sigh, Steve approached the bathroom door, knocking twice before he attempted to enter.  It was locked, so Steve sat down on the floor, picking at his shoelaces nervously as he tried to think of a way to get Bucky to let him in.  

“Hey, Buck.  You remember when we snuck into Ebbets Field to watch the Dodgers play on my birthday?  You looked like you found the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow when you squeezed us through a hole in the fence out by left field.”  No answer.

“You managed to scrape up enough money to get us a coney dog to share.  I know you felt bad for not havin’ enough money to get me an actual present, but goin’ to that game was the most fun I’d ever had at the time.  We stayed n’ watched the fireworks after n’ you had the biggest grin on your face.  Think that was the best birthday I ever had.”

Steve sighed.  Bucky still wasn’t responding.  He waited a few minutes just to give the brunet some time before he spoke up again.

“Buck, I just wanna know if you’re still in there.  Please knock on something at least to let me know that you haven’t somehow squeezed your way out through a crack in the wall or somethin’.”   _Knock._

The knock was followed by the worst retching Steve had ever heard.  It made his own stomach churn uneasily.  He had to step away for a few moments to try and clear his mind and control his emotions.  He felt so much anger towards what was done to Bucky, so much worry and sadness and fear.

“Buck, ‘m sorry about my ringtone.  Nat put it on there without my knowledge, but I fixed it.  Can I at least come in?”

Steve waited patiently for an answer, staring down into his lap.  He didn’t get any response from Bucky for the first ten minutes, but he waited patiently.  He wasn’t about to force Bucky into an uncomfortable situation, but he could hear the lock on the door shifting back to its original unlocked state as he waited.  It took a few more minutes for Steve to collect his thoughts and summon up the courage to tell Bucky he was opening the door.

“Alright, Buck.  ‘m gonna open the door, okay?  If you don’t want me to come in, knock once for me.  Got it?”

No knock came, and Steve nervously shifted back onto his feet to push open the door.  Bucky was leaning over the toilet bowl, body shaking and covered in sweat.  His hair was damp and hanging loose around his face, and Steve frowned as he cautiously stepped inside.

“Hey, Buck.  Is it okay if I sit with you?”

Steve watched as the brunet nodded shakily moments later, and he frowned as he slowly approached his boyfriend before sitting down on the tile floor a few feet away from him.  The blond didn’t speak for some time; he figured Bucky needed a bit of time to try and collect himself and calm down.  It didn’t look like that was happening anytime soon.

“First of all, I love you.  Nothing in the world will change my feelings for you.  I know you probably don’t want to talk about what you went through, and that’s fine.  I couldn’t even begin to imagine the horrors you had to en--”

“Shut _up_ , Steve.”  Bucky hissed, shooting the blond a glare through teary eyes, face pale and gaunt-looking.  What Steve didn’t expect was for Bucky to crawl over to him and nearly collapse onto his bulky frame, shaking and nearly sobbing himself into a fit of hiccups.  He quickly brushed the brunet’s hair out of his eyes, pressing a soft kiss against his damp forehead.  The only words that ran through his mind as he stared into Bucky’s tear-filled blue eyes was ‘ _I love you.’_  The three words repeated themselves over and over in his mind and he hugged Bucky closer to him.  The words made his heart ache and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried not to picture what sort of horrors the man he loved had to endure.

“I’ll tell you what I went through, so you won’t have to imagine it, Steve.”  Bucky said shakily, pressing himself into Steve’s body as if the blond’s bulky frame would protect him from his memories.

“Hey, it’s okay, Buck.  You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.  ‘m not gonna force you to do somethin’ you’re uncomfortable with, okay?”  Steve whispered through his own shaky breaths, holding Bucky close to him.  

“I wanna tell you.  You shouldn’t be left in the dark when I get like this, Stevie.”  Bucky’s voice was weak, rough and strained from retching.  “Just don’t let go of me, okay?”

Steve hugged Bucky tighter to his chest when he asked that question, pressing a gentle kiss to Bucky’s cheek as he tried to hold back his own tears.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Buck.”

The two stayed quiet for the next few minutes; it was the calm before the storm.  They drank in each others warmth and company, and Steve let Bucky bury his face into his neck.

“I guess it started when the 107th was first captured,”  Bucky started, his voice muffled against Steves’ collarbone.  “We were out fightin’ the nazis, ya know?  Just the usual stuff, n’ we were outgunned.  We got overpowered n’ I ordered my men to fall back.  Then these high-tech weapons come shootin’ out of nowhere, takin’ out the enemy and it felt like the Dodgers winnin’ the world series.  It was great.  Turns out those guys were just as bad.  They captured me n’ the rest of the 107th that were still alive n’ they shipped us out to this factory.”

Steve knew bits and pieces of this story already.  Bucky hadn’t really had an in-depth discussion about what happened to him when he was first captured, but it frightened Steve more now than it had before.

“They made us work, building weapons n’ other parts until we collapsed from exhaustion or died from the elements or malnutrition.  We didn’t have enough energy in us to fight back most times.  Those that were too weak or were too exhausted were sent to another room to get poked and prodded like a lab rat as they ran experiments on ya.  I got sick of watchin’ my men get dragged off to that room n’ volunteered to take their place.

They strapped me to that table n’ injected me with somethin’.  It felt like molten lava flowin’ through my veins; it hurt so bad.  I swear the whole factory could hear my screams.  Haven’t felt anythin’ like it; not even when the Russians cut the rest of my arm off.”

There was a pause, and Steve could hear Bucky’s breath catch in his throat, like the story he was telling Steve was choking off his air supply.  The blond just held his boyfriend tighter, peppering gentle kisses anywhere his lips could reach.  He knew it didn’t help much, but it was for his own comfort.

“N’ then they had this thing overhead; I dunno what it was but it made me start forgettin’ things.  Just like...real random things, like where I used to get your prescriptions or somethin’.  They’d fire that thing up every day and afterwards, they’d ask me who I was.  Every damn time I’d give them my name, rank and number n’ they’d get pissed.  They’d beat the shit out of me hopin’ that I’d forget.

My name started to sound foreign on my own tongue the more I said it.  Just never sat right with me after that, but then you showed up.  You said my name n’ I figured that was who I was.  I still didn’t feel like myself, but I followed you anyways, ‘cause you’re good.  You’re familiar.  Following the kid from Brooklyn felt like the most right I’d ever done since I got back from that Hydra base.

Things still felt different, though--like, inside me.  Whatever they injected me with, it made me feel different.  You know I always had a bit of an anger problem when dealin’ with your bullies.  That anger just got so much worse.  I didn’t make a shot, that anger was there, multiplied by ten.  I’d make unnecessary shots at seemingly _nothing_ just out of retaliation.  It happened on the train, n’ on the bridge, n’ a few other times.  

It amplified my feelings for you as well.  Jesus, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you once I saw you in that factory.  Your new body was quite confusing to me; n’ frankly, I’m still not quite used to it.  Miss the old you, but I like this one too.”  Bucky smiled weakly when he felt Steves’ lips brushing against his temple.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about how your lips would taste n’ how your body would feel against mine.  I’ve never fucked another man before, but sometimes I’d find myself thinkin’ about doin’ that kind of thing with you.  I’d jerk off to those thoughts sometimes, n’ I’d never come so hard in my life until then.

Then I fell from the train.  I thought I was dead; sometimes I wish I had died so I wouldn’t have been turned into... _this_.”  Bucky paused, trying to choke down a dry sob as his left hand gripped at the hem of Steve’s shirt.  “I couldn’t remember who I was.  The Russians came n’ took me to their headquarters.  I dunno how long I was in that place.  I don’t know how much time had passed before I got the arm, but Zola was there.

Sometimes they’d kept me awake for days.  I don’t know how long I’d stayed awake; I just know I started blacking out and hallucinating after a while.  Sometimes I’d see you, smaller and sick and I’d ask if you were okay.  They told me that I could go back home to you soon, I just had to stay awake a little longer.  I believed them.  Sometimes they’d lock me to a bed in a small chamber.  When I was in there, I couldn’t see anything it was so dark.  I couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t smell or touch anything.  It was so frightening.  I hated that chamber so much.

They pumped me full of drugs.  I don’t know what they were, but they made it easier for me to forget, n’ made me more compliant.  Most times it just made me feel relaxed and numb, and that was okay with me.  I could forget the things I had done.  I didn’t have to be subjected to the chair as often.  I still crave that feeling of being on those drugs sometimes.  I’m cravin’ ‘em right now, actually.  I’d rather feel numb and forget than be tellin’ you all this.”

Steve swallowed hard, tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to ignore his anger and guilt.  Bucky should have never been left behind.

“S-stop, please.  I can’t bear to listen to any more of what you’ve gone through.”  Steve sniffled, voice wavering as he tried to hold back his anger and tears.

“Don’t you dare cry over me, Rogers.  I told you that you’re not allowed to until I’m six feet under.”  Bucky croaked weakly, left hand reaching over to take Steve’s right.

Steve let out a shaky breath but nodded, quickly blinking the tears away.  The two sat in silence for another few minutes before Steve started peppering quick, chaste kisses against Buckys' lips.  Each kiss felt like a burden had been lifted off both of their shoulders.  It took the both of them a few minutes to calm down and collect their thoughts before Steve piped up.

“Hey, Buck, why don’t I make us some hot cocoa while you get washed up?”  Steve whispered weakly as he pressed another gentle kiss against Bucky’s lips.  “I won’t be gone long.  I promise.”

“Alright, Stevie.”  Bucky whispered against Steves’ lips before he slowly pushed himself onto his feet and over to the sink.  Steve left shortly after, dragging his feet into the kitchen to start making hot chocolate.  He would do it the old fashioned way, because any other way felt wrong to him, so he grabbed a pot and started gathering all the ingredients.  

As soon as Steve heard the shower running, he got to work mixing the ingredients as he put them in the pot to heat up.  He remembered when Bucky would always make him hot cocoa in the winters when he was feeling ill.  When he caught a cold and his sinuses were too clogged for him to taste anything, the brunet would crush up little peppermint candies and put them in the hot cocoa.  Bucky called it medicine, and his little trick almost had Steve convinced a few times, as the only thing he could taste in the hot cocoa was the peppermint.

Bucky wasn’t sick, but he crushed up a few peppermint candies and melted them into the steaming hot cocoa anyways.  Maybe it would bring his boyfriend a bit of comfort; maybe it would ease their minds after Bucky had recounted his time in the hands of Hydra.  He tried not to dwell on the things Bucky had told him as he poured the hot cocoa into two mugs and shuffled back into the bedroom quietly.  

After setting the two steaming mugs of cocoa onto his nightstand, Steve sat down on the bed and waited patiently for his boyfriend to finish in the shower.  By the sound of it, Bucky was nearly finished, as the blond heard the squeaky knobs on the faucet turn, shutting the water off.  The brunet walked out moments later, his sweats hanging low on his hips and Steve couldn’t stop himself from staring.

“My eyes are up here, punk.”  Bucky mumbled halfheartedly as he reached for one of the mugs of cocoa.  Steve couldn’t hide the blush as he quickly shifted his gaze away from the dangerously low waistline of his boyfriend’s sweats, only to stiffen when he felt both sides of the bed dip down around his thighs and weight being applied to his knees.  

“Shut up, jerk,”  Steve whispered as he leaned up to press a kiss against Bucky’s lips.  

“Make me,”  Bucky mumbled against Steves’ lips before he pulled away to take a sip of his cocoa.  

“So what'd ya say about a trip to Angel Ink tomorrow, then afterwards, I take you out to a nice dinner and maybe a movie?”  Steve bit his lip as he looked up at Bucky, hands resting on the brunets’ thighs before he leaned up to pepper gentle kisses against the small amount of scruff that decorated his jaw line.

“Sounds just about as good as the peppermint cocoa you made us, babydoll.”  Bucky flashed his boyfriend a smile as he took another sip of cocoa.  He clicked his tongue piercing against his teeth as he savored the minty taste, contemplating on what he should get next.  He’d definitely keep the tongue piercing, as sometimes the noise of the metal jewelry clicking against his teeth distracted him from his thoughts and he figured that was a good thing.  

“Don’t call me that, Buck.”  Steve gave Bucky a stern look as he reached over to grab his mug of cocoa off the nightstand.  “Anyways, what’re you thinkin’ about getting?”

“What if I got my nipples done?”  Bucky asked with a playful smile, only to bite his lip as he felt the smooth pad of Steve’s thumb rubbing over his left nipple.

“Fuck, Stevie…”  Bucky hissed, trying not to choke on the cocoa he just swallowed down.

“Well, I think your nipples are perfect just the way they are, but I won’t complain if you decide to get them pierced.”  Steve smiled and took a sip of his drink.  “Now what d’you say we order some pizza and catch up on some movies?  Nat dropped off “Titanic” the last time she was here.”

“Sure, but we both know how that’s going to end.”  Bucky grunted as he crawled off Steves’ lap and onto his own side of the bed.  He grabbed for his phone and started dialing the number to the nearest pizza place once Steve made a move to get the DVD player set up.  After ordering the pizza, they both settled into bed to watch the movie.

The sinking of the Titanic had somehow been romanticized by the movie’s plotline, and it left a sour taste in Bucky’s mouth.  Steve seemed to be struggling with the story line just like him and he almost felt relieved by that.  The incident happened before they were both born, but their parents made sure to tell them all about it.  There were some enjoyable parts to the movie though that made the both of them smile and laugh, but in the end, it didn’t erase the tragedy of what occurred.

The only interruptions came from Steve, who would pepper soft kisses against his lips every once in a while.  Bucky gladly welcomed each kiss, returning them eagerly, until the pizza delivery guy came to drop off their pizza.  Steve opted to answer the door, coming back moments later with a large pizza box and a few beers.  He nearly dropped their food when he walked back into the bedroom and his eyes fell on his boyfriend.

“Shit!  What the _hell_ are you doing, Bucky?”  Steve hissed as he turned around.  Bucky was _naked_.

“Watch your damn language, Steve!”  Bucky spat before he continued.  “Now draw me like one of your french girls.”  Bucky purred, and Steve could hear the laughter behind the seductive voice.  He was teasing, and he bit his lip before deciding to play along.  The blond turned back around, sizing up his lover as he walked back over to the edge of the bed.  He set the pizza aside and the beers soon followed before he crawled onto the bed, pulling Bucky close to him.

“Maybe tomorrow.”  Steve chuckled as he pressed soft kisses up and down his neck.

“Just like this?”

“If you want, Buck,”  Steve mumbled as he pressed his lips against Bucky’s, fingers slowly mapping out the brunet's bare skin.  “but right now, there’s a pizza and a few beers calling our names.”

Steve turned back around to grab the box of pizza and the two beers off the nightstand just as Bucky pulled his pants back up.  They dug into their food as they turned back to watch the movie like what had just happened was nothing new to them.

“What the fuck!  There’s totally enough room on that piece of wood for the both of them!”  Bucky hissed and looked at Steve for some sort of input.  Steve set the empty pizza box aside, glancing back at his boyfriend before he stared at the tv screen.

“Too late.  Jack’s dead.”  He stated as he took a sip of his beer.

“Ooh that’s cold, Stevie.  Just about as cold as Rose letting Jack die in the freezing waters of the Atlantic.”  Bucky chuckled.

“Not as cold as your arm gets when you step outside in the winter.  Besides, I was once in Jack’s position and look how I turned out.”  Steve laughed right back, only to nearly get shoved off the bed in retaliation.

“Love you too, babydoll.”  Bucky smirked.

“Fuck you, Barnes.”  Steve growled as he pressed a kiss against Bucky’s lips.

“Again, _language_ , Stevie.”  Bucky mumbled against Steves’ lips.

“What did I say about you callin’ me that name?  ‘m not one of your _dames_.”  Steve was not angry one bit, just annoyed that Bucky had chosen to call him that nickname.  He pressed another kiss against Bucky’s lips, tongue swiping into his mouth lazily.

“Mmm...and this isn’t much of a punishment for calling you ‘babydoll’.  ‘re you goin’ soft on me, Rogers, or do you actually like the nickname?”  Bucky mumbled as he returned the kiss.

“I’ll tell you when I like it, Buck.”  The blond whispered as he nipped at his boyfriend’s lower lip playfully.  They stayed pressed together, kissing slowly until the credits stopped rolling.

“I love you, Bucky.”  Steve purred as he pulled away.  He smiled as the brunet curled into his chest, face buried in his neck.  This is what home felt like.  For once, Steve felt like he belonged and had purpose.  He felt like he didn’t have to go out and fight a war, but he’d tear apart the world just to stay with Bucky.

They stayed curled up against each other for the rest of the night.  Steve got to talking about his experiences after he got out of the ice.  He talked about the incident in New York, about how everything was different when he woke up and how he was just thrown into a battle only a few days later.  Bucky fell asleep in Steves’ arms shortly after the New York story ended.

This gave Steve time to draw.  He dug through his nightstand for his notebook and a pencil and started to sketch.  He sketched from memory.  He sketched Bucky’s hard muscles and broad shoulders.  He made sure to get every detail of the arm, right down to the last metal plate on his pinky finger.  He drew his boyfriend’s defined adonis belt, biting his lip as his pencil moved lower.  He captured every detail of Bucky’s figure as best as he could.  He drew until his eyes grew heavy.  Sleep came easily to him.  The second Steve set his notebook aside, he drifted off, pulling Bucky closer to him.

\---

**_December 3rd, 2016_ **

“I love you.”

Bucky started every single morning with those three words ever since they admitted their feelings, and it still felt like the first time he said them.  A kiss would always follow the ‘I love you’, along with Steve sleepily saying those three words right back.  It always made his heart skip a beat.  Never in his life would he have thought someone as good as Steve would love someone like him.

Bucky spent the morning cleaning up the apartment while Steve went out to buy a new laptop.  The brunet would have to find a way to repay him, even though Steve said it wasn’t a big deal.  He knew those things cost an arm and a leg, and he didn’t care how much money Steve had.  He destroyed Steve’s laptop, and he needed to find a way to make up for that.

“So Buck, I was thinkin’ of takin’ you to Peter Luger’s.  I heard they have the best steaks in Brooklyn.”  Steve stated as he stepped back into the apartment, setting a box on the kitchen counter.  Bucky was currently preoccupied in their bedroom, taking care of the empty pizza box and the beer bottles from last night when his eyes fell on one of Steves’ notebooks.  Bucky walked out of the bedroom with the notebook in his hand, biting his lip as his eyes scanned over the artwork Steve had left out for him to find.  He stepped into the kitchen and made eye contact with Steve.

“When’d you find the time to draw this, Stevie?”  Bucky turned the notebook over in his hand to show Steve, who instantly blushed as he glanced at the artwork.

“After you fell asleep last night.  You’ve always had a nice body; I just wanted to capture it all on paper now that I got the chance.”  Steve smiled as he approached the brunet, wrapping his arms around the others’ waist.  He peppered soft kisses over the stubble on his jaw line.

“I could do that with my phone,”  Bucky smirked as he pressed his lips to Steve’s, kissing slowly.

“Don’t you dare.”  Steve hissed against Buckys' lips, pulling the brunet against his body as if that would stop him from thinking of snapping a few dirty pictures.

“Why not?  Figured it’d spice up our relationship a bit.”  Bucky said with a smirk.

“Our relationship isn’t exciting enough for you?  We’ve been dating for nearly two weeks.  Besides, those images could be compromised somehow.”

“Compromised?  The only way someone could steal my dick pics is if they steal my phone, or I send them out to someone else, which you know I won’t.”  Bucky gave Steve a stern look as he grabbed for his phone, flipping through a few screens and typing away with one hand while the other kept a tight hold on the back of Steve’s neck.  The second Steve heard his own phone _ping_ , notifying him that he got a new text message, Bucky pulled him in for a kiss.

“You _didn’t…_ ”  Steve mumbled against Buckys' lips.

“I did and you’re going to like it, punk.”  There really was no arguing with that, and Steve quickly reciprocated the playful insult by whispering ‘ _jerk’_ against Buckys' lips.

They skipped lunch just making out on the couch and letting their hands map out each others’ bodies.  They kissed until their lips were swollen and bruised before Bucky moved to Steve’s neck, sucking bruises into his skin that only lasted seconds.  He would flick his tongue over each mark as if he were committing the bruise to memory before it disappeared completely.  

Bucky could kiss Steve all day if that was what they were planning on doing with the rest of their time, but it was starting to get late and his boyfriend had promised him piercings, dinner and a movie if they were both up for it.  The brunet was not about to pass that up, no matter how much he _loved_ Steves’ lips. 

“Anyways, what d’you say I put on some _proper_ clothes and we take a cab to Angel Ink so I can get more piercings?”  Bucky whispered as he peppered kisses all over Steve’s face and lips.

“Sounds like a good plan, Buck.”  Steve mumbled as he pressed a kiss against Buckys’ lips before the brunet pushed himself off the couch to get changed.  He didn’t even bother waiting to strip until he was into the bedroom; he just slipped his sweats off of his hips, stepping out of them casually as he walked back to the bedroom with Steve’s gaze following his every move.  The only time Bucky made eye contact with Steve was when he turned back to pick up his sweats before he disappeared into the bedroom to change.

Bucky returned a few minutes later dressed in a plain white v-neck and a black leather jacket.  He chose to wear the skinny jeans that drove Steve up the wall and he could feel those bright blue eyes drinking him in once he stepped back in the main room.

“Damn, babe.  You look good.  C’mere.”  Steve motioned for him to get back on the couch, but Bucky knew that if he sat back down, there’d be no way he’d _want_ to get up until a few hours later.  

“Why don’t you come here and kiss me?”  Bucky whispered, only to be swept off his feet seconds later.  Steve pressed heated kisses against his lips and all Bucky could do was hold on tight and go along for the ride.  He barely had the chance to breathe and he didn’t even care.  He kissed right back, tongue licking into Steve’s parted lips.  

“Y’know, we could just stay in and kiss the day away, if you want.”  Steve mumbled against his lips.

“Sounds tempting, but I want those piercings.”  Bucky winked as he pulled away.  “Now go get your coat.  It’s cold outside.”  Bucky whispered as he looked up into his boyfriend’s eyes.  He bit his lip and smiled before he stepped away, grabbing Steve’s coat and tossing it to him.

“And people always told me that I was the buzzkill.”  Steve huffed as he pulled on his coat and followed Bucky out of the apartment.  

“Shut up, Steve.”  Bucky’s left hand reached for Steve’s right as he hailed a cab.  The second a cab pulled up, the two of them climbed into the back and told the driver where they wanted to go.  It wouldn’t take longer than five minutes for them to get to their first destination and Bucky bit his lip anxiously as he saw the tattoo parlor approaching.

“I thought we were never going to see you guys again!”  Charlie said with a grin as the two of them walked into the tattoo parlor.  Bucky could hear the buzzing of a tattoo needle in another cubicle; the noise momentarily distracted him but Steve nudged him gently.

“Oh, um...yeah, well we’re back, n’ I’m lookin’ to get more piercings.”  Bucky said eagerly as he approached the counter, while Charlie drew up the paperwork.

“What are you thinking of getting this time?”

“My nipples.”  Bucky bit his lip, glancing at Steve briefly before he turned to look back down at the paperwork.

“Again?  Thought signing my name once would be enough.”

“Still gotta give consent, Soldier.”  Charlie said as he pushed the waiver into Bucky’s hands.  “Now fill that out, and I’ll be with you in a few minutes.  How’s Wilson, by the way?”

Bucky grabbed the paper and moved to sit down on the couch.  Steve sat down next to him, and they both settled in as Bucky filled out paperwork.

“He’s doing fine.  He comes up every other weekend to train with one of my colleagues and a few others.  I’m trying to talk him into staying, but his heart’s still in DC.”

“Ah, yeah.  That’s Wilson for you…”  Bucky tuned out the conversation as he initialed the spaces, biting his lip as he signed his name at the bottom.  He then handed the paperwork over for Steve to sign off on, only to stop when he noticed Steve had fished his phone out of his pocket and was _blushing_.

“Jesus Christ, Steve.  You had to look at that here, didn’t you?”

“Well, there’s no one else around, and _damn,_ Buck…”  Steve whispered, eyes quickly darting to Bucky’s crotch before looking back up at his boyfriend.  “That serum they gave you definitely did _something_.”

Bucky blushed and bit his lip, fidgeting on the couch as Steve put away his phone.  He snatched the paper out of Bucky’s hand, quickly signing it without another word before he fished his ID out of his wallet.  They handed over the paperwork and Bucky shot a glance at Steve.

“What if I got my dick pierced?”  He bit his lip with a sly smirk.

“No.  Absolutely not.  Getting your nipples pierced is already pushing the boundaries.”

“What boundaries?  Yours?  You never know until you try it, Stevie.”  Bucky whispered with a wink as Steve shot him a glare.  “Alright, alright.  Not today.  Maybe another time.”

Charlie quickly finished with the paperwork and lead them back to the cubicle.  Bucky had a huge grin on his face as he told the other man what he wanted and was instructed to take off his shirt.  He could feel Charlie’s eyes on his metal arm the second he discarded his shirt and he hunched his shoulders over nervously as he sat down.

“So your nipples, huh?  What brought this on?”  Charlie said as he pulled up a chair and pulled on some gloves before he started grabbing a few tools off the table.

“Just wanted something different, I guess.”  Bucky said as he sat back and waited for Charlie to get to work.  He glanced at Steve  the second the man got to work, sterilizing the area before pressing the needle into his skin.

 _Don’t show pain_.

When the job was finished, Bucky sat up and pulled his shirt back on casually, like _this was nothing_.  To him, it was nothing, but he watched as Charlie sat back and chuckled to himself as he cleaned up his tools.

“Y’know, I’ve had men from all walks of life walk through these doors and sit in that chair looking to get a tattoo or a piercing, but you’re the only one I’ve seen that hasn’t shown any amount of physical pain.  Do you feel pain?”

Bucky stiffened in his seat, his breath catching in his throat at the question.  This was something even _Steve_ didn’t know about, and the blond seemed to notice his uneasiness because he felt a hand squeezing his own.

“It’s okay,” he heard Steve whisper, and Bucky squeezed his hand back gently.  He was okay.  

“I um...I do, I just--Can we not talk about this?”  Bucky choked out, quickly clearing his throat.  Charlie seemed to understand and gave him a sympathetic smile as he stood up to lead them to the front desk to pay.

“I’m sorry, man.  I see you’re still recovering.  Y’know, some of my men visit the VA at least once a week and meet with a group of people that have gone through things, just like you.  Maybe you can give it a try.”  Charlie quickly handed over a business card and Bucky stared at the small piece of paper before reluctantly taking it,.  He quickly shoved it into his pocket, unable to make eye contact.

“Anyways, that’ll be sixty dollars.”  

Steve knew that Bucky was feeling a bit uneasy about what Charlie had asked him and wanted out of there, so he quickly paid and thanked the man before they left hand in hand.  Once they were out in the fresh air, Steve pulled Bucky to him and hugged him against his broad chest.  He kissed his forehead and everywhere else he could reach, whispering silent promises that the things he went through wouldn’t change how he felt.  

“C-can we just go and get dinner, Stevie?”  Bucky mumbled meekly.  “I’m fine.”

“You sure?  We could just go back to the apartment and cook something if you don’t feel up to it.”  Steve whispered as he brushed a few stray strands of hair out of Bucky’s eyes.

“Yeah.  I’m fine.  Let’s go get those steaks you were talkin’ about this morning.  ‘m hungry.”  The brunet smiled weakly as he slowly pushed himself away from his boyfriend to hail a cab.

“Alright, Buck.  That sounds like a good plan.”

Bucky was feeling better by the time they arrived at the restaurant.  Peter Luger’s was nice.  Bucky’s mouth was watering just from the smell of the place and everything looked _expensive._  He got a quick glance around and _jesus,_ the steaks were as big as the dinner plates.  He was too distracted in taking in his surroundings to look down at the menu, and Steve seemed to notice.

“Hey, Buck...what d’you think about gettin’ a steak for two?”

“Sounds good as long as their beer is good.”  Bucky smiled softly as he finally turned his attention down towards his menu.  What brought him back down to earth was the feeling of Steve’s warm hand slipping into his right from across the table.  The only interruption was from a waiter who had asked them what they would like to drink.

“Get me whatever beer you’d recommend.”  Bucky smiled at the man taking his order and Steve ordered the same, not taking his eyes off the brunet sitting across from him.  Steve listed off their order and Bucky didn’t complain when the blond ordered two separate sides for them both to go with their meal.  They handed their menus to the waiter and they were both left to take in each others’ piercing blue gaze.  

“You ever hate yourself for loving me, Stevie?”  Bucky’s voice broke the silence, and the question threw Steve off guard.

“I um...no.  Why do you ask?”

“I enrolled in the army...to try and get rid of my feelings for you.  To forget how I felt about you.  It never worked.  I saw men out there that reminded me so much of you, of your stubbornness, but they weren’t nearly as _good_ as you.  It just made me miss you so much more.”

“Buck..where’s this all co--”

“Capsicle?  Barnes?”  A sharp, familiar voice entered their little booth, taking the blond’s attention away from him.   Both men turned to the sharply-dressed billionaire standing at the end of their table.

“Stark.  What’re you doing here?”  Steve’s smile faded slightly as Stark stepped up to the end of their table.

“Pepper and I are on a _date_ , and yes, we _do_ that kind of thing.  What are you two old-farts doing here?”  
  
“Well, I guess you could say that we’re on a _date_ as well, and yes, us old-farts do that kind of thing.”  Steve mimicked back with a teasing smile.    
  
“Oh, so you _have_ made it official?  Good for you!  Never thought you’d find someone, Cap, and Barnes of all people?  Gosh, if those conservative Americans even _knew_ , there’d be riots.  I love it.  It might even create a second Civil War.”  
  
“Glad someone’s thrilled.  Now where’s your date?”  Bucky grumbled, only to watch Stark step aside as the waiter passed them their drinks.  Bucky quickly reached for his glass and took a swig.  
  
“Pepper’s running a bit late.  Anyways, I was just thinking about heading up to my upstate New York cabin for a short winter break with Pepper, but you two love birds look like you need a break from city life more than we do.  Why don’t you two stop by the tower in a few days?  I’ll set you up with one of my cars and you two can take it up to the cabin.  We’ll join you for the Christmas-slash-New Years Eve party but you two will have the cabin to yourself for a few weeks.  
  
“Why do you think we need a break?”  Steve said between sips of his own beer.  
  
“ _Oh come on,_ Rogers!  Everyone needs a break, and you of all people deserve it the most.”  
  
“You’re interrupting my break, Stark.”  Steve shot Stark a playful glare.  
  
“This _noise_ is not a break.  Just think of it as an early Christmas present from me to you.”  Stark glanced around the restaurant casually before he pulled up a chair and sat down, seemingly making himself at home.  
  
“You’re not going to leave until we agree, are you?”  Bucky grunted, glaring through the glass as he took another drink.  
  
“You got that right, Terminator.”  
  
“ _Stop calling me that._ ”  Bucky hissed.  
  
“Only if you two agree to take a vacation.”  
  
“Alright, fine.  We’ll meet you at your tower in two days.”  Steve huffed, only to look up when he heard a woman’s voice calling Tony’s name.  
  
“Alright, that’s my date, guys.  Have fun, and use protection.  Not like you need it though, right, Cap?”  Stark patted Steve’s shoulder and gave a wink as he left.    
  
Bucky noticed that Steve was blushing a bright shade of red and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he sat back in his seat.  It didn’t take a lot for Steve to blush, but watching the blond’s face turn a deep shade of rouge in seconds flat was always something Bucky loved about him.  
  
“Y’know, Stevie, you’re cute when you blush.”  
  
“Shut up, Bucky.”  Steve glared as the waiter arrived with their food.  The rest of the evening was spent enjoying their food and making small talk about what they were planning on doing at Stark’s cabin and their Christmas plans.    
  
Bucky was actually looking forward to Christmas.  Things would be different this time around.  He hadn’t celebrated Christmas in over seventy years, and before that, his Christmases weren’t that big.  He could just scrape by with getting gifts for Steve and his own family, but maybe this time he could get his friends and his boyfriend something nice.    
  
Instead of going to see a movie, the two decided to wander around Brooklyn to check out the attractions.  They stumbled upon a bar-slash-arcade a few blocks away that piqued Bucky’s interest and the two of them decided to wander in to see what it was all about.  The place was loud, filled with people in the middle of friendly conversations along with the noise of the arcade games playing their music.  The Brunet’s attention was instantly fixed on a machine with rifles attached to it and he quickly wandered over, leaning over the side as he watched another man taking out some masked men with the fake weapon.  
  
“Steve, we gotta play this.  I wanna get the high score.”  Bucky mumbled as Steve wandered up to him.  
  
“Good luck with that, pal.  Some guy by the initials HAL comes in every Thursday afternoon to play this.  So far, no one’s been able to beat him.”  The guy on the other end of the gun stated as he blasted another enemy to smithereens.  
  
“Alright, well I’ll get us some tokens and we’ll see about beating that high score, Buck.”  Bucky barely acknowledged Steve as he watched the other man play the game.  By the time the blond returned, the man had just lost the game and handed the gun over to Bucky.  He busied himself with checking out the controls as Steve picked up the gun next to him.  
  
“Ready to kick some ass, Stevie?”  
  
“Ready when you are.”  Steve responded as he fed tokens into the slot.  
  
The two men took aim as the game set the scene, and once the game officially started, the two played the game like it was their job.  Bucky was of course, the better of the two, but Steve was having just as much fun as the brunet was.  
  
Bucky’s training as The Winter Soldier definitely paid off, because Bucky had the opportunity to put his initials in the very top slot.  Steve came in fifth place and also had the chance to place his initials on the screen. The two men played a few more games before they settled down at the bar for a few beers before heading back to the apartment to get some rest.    
  
“I had fun tonight, Stevie.”  Bucky said as he crawled into bed, curling up against Steves’ bulky frame.  He smiled when he felt the blond press a kiss against his forehead.  
  
“I’m glad, Buck.  I did too.  Wanna do that again sometime?”  Steve mumbled sleepily as he sifted his fingers through the brunet’s hair slowly.  
  
“Of course,”  Bucky said with a grin as he leaned up to steal a kiss from his boyfriend.  “Maybe I’ll let you win next time.”  
  
“That’s no fun,” Steve mumbled as he pulled away, looking up into Bucky’s eyes.  “How did I get so lucky?”  
  
The question threw Bucky off guard, and he gave Steve a perplexed look as he straightened up a bit.  
  
“What do you mean, Steve?”  
  
“I thought I wouldn’t ever see you again, and yet, here you are.”  
  
“Babe, you’re being a sap.”  Bucky said with a grin before he settled back down into bed.  “Now let’s get some sleep.  It’s getting late and we need to start packing tomorrow.”    
  
“Alright, Buck.  I love you.”  Steve whispered tiredly as he pulled his boyfriend close to him.  
  
“I love you too, Stevie.”  Bucky mumbled into Steve’s chest, drifting off into a peaceful sleep as he listened to his lover’s heartbeat.    
  
\---  
  
**_December 5th, 2016_**

Sokovia.  

Instead of the two lovebirds spending most of December in an upstate New York cabin, Steve was about to be shipped off to Sokovia with the Avengers to retrieve Loki’s Scepter.  The two of them had gotten the news as soon as they stepped into the Avengers tower and that left them both scrambling to get Steve suited up and ready.

“I want to go with you!  I want to help!”  Bucky pleaded as the two of them stepped onto the flight deck.  Steve latched his shield onto his back before pulling Bucky close to him.

The rest of the Avengers were already suiting up and getting in the quinjet as Steve stayed behind to say goodbye to Bucky.

“It’s too dangerous, Buck.  I’m sorry.  I know you’re more than capable of helping us out with situations like this, but it’s too risky.  It’s another Hydra base and none of us are sure what’s actually there; and if there are any Hydra agents at that location, we’re not sure what they’re capable of if they come in contact with you.”  Steve said, stepping closer to his boyfriend.  He brushed the tip of his nose against the stubble on Bucky’s jaw line, sighing softly as he peppered soft kisses against every inch of skin his lips could reach.  

“Alright, just make it back in one piece, okay?”  It honestly sounded like it was killing Bucky that he wasn’t invited on this mission.  Steve was sure he could hold his own, but the blond wanted to keep Bucky safe until he was fully recovered.  

“It should only take a few days.  I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”  Bucky nodded his response and Steve quickly leaned over to steal a kiss.  He could hear the engines of the quinjet firing up, signalling him that he needed to leave soon.

“I love you, punk.”  Bucky bit his lip as Steve pulled away.

“I love you too, jerk.  Just promise me you’ll drive safe when you head up to that cabin, okay?”  Steve said with a sad smile as he backed away.

“I will, Stevie.”  Bucky returned the smile, biting his lip as he watched Steve step into the quinjet.

The large metal door shut behind the blond and he then realized he hadn’t had the time to introduce anyone to Bucky, or even greet his friends.  He sat down as the quinjet took off, glancing around at the five other superheroes in the small space.

“Hey Cap.  Sorry to interrupt your vacation right off the bat but you know how it is.  Bad guys and saving the world is our job, and sometimes vacations are just out of the picture. How’s the longest-serving prisoner of war, by the way?”

“Please don’t call him that, Stark.  He’s _fine,_ by the way.”  Steve scoffed before glancing up at Barton, who was manning the controls.  “What’s our ETA, Barton?”

“Well he won’t let me call him terminator and that’s ten times more _fun_ , Capsicle.”  

“Oh man, he won’t let you call him _terminator?_  Jesus, what a buzzkill.  Steve, tell your boyfriend to lighten up.  ETA is six hours so get some rest, we’ll be here for a while.”  Clint scoffed as he flipped a few of the controls.

“So you _all_ know about Bucky now?”  Steve slumped back in his chair and sighed as he flipped open the file on the location they were going to be infiltrating.

“Well it’s not like it’s much of a secret, Steve.  Sure, the media hasn’t caught you two in the act but _some of us_ can’t keep our mouth shut.”  Banner piped up, barely looking away from the book he was reading.

“I, for one, am happy that Captain Rogers has found a partner.”  Thor said as he flashed a grin at Steve.  The blond couldn’t help but smile sheepishly before shooting a quick glance at the larger blond.

“Thank you, Thor.  At least someone’s not teasing me about my relationship.”

“The only one who’s teasing you is Stark, Steve.  We’re all happy for you, man.”  Clint never looked away from the console in front of him as he talked.

“Anyways, enough about Steve’s _boyfriend,_ what about this mission?”  Thank god for Natasha.  She caught on quickly and diverted the conversation to what they were _supposed_ to be doing.  

“I need a layout of the compound and the surrounding area before I get a good idea of what we’re dealing with.”

“Already on it, Captain Rogers,” a British voice echoed throughout the cabin of the quinjet.  “A 3D rendering will be available to you in approximately three minutes and twenty-seven seconds.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.”  Steve said as he flipped through the file, skimming over the information about the area.

A small rendering of the compound and surrounding areas flashed into view a few minutes later before everyone’s eyes fixed on the building.

“Alright it looks like there’s at least a dozen armored bunkers in the woods surrounding the compound.  We’re going to need to get to those and destroy them.  Nat, Barton, Thor, and I will take care of any agents on the ground.  My position will be on the north side; Nat, you take east and Barton, you’ve got the south.  Thor, you flank along the west and we’ll all meet up with you.  Banner, we’re activating a code green for this mission.  Your job is to take out as many of those bunkers as you can and keep the fight on us.  Stark, I want you to call out your Iron Legion; keep the fight away from the city while you infiltrate the compound and retrieve the scepter.  You see anything fishy, you call for us, Stark.”

Steve glanced at everyone briefly to see if they had any questions.  It all seemed pretty crystal clear to everyone and they all settled back to read their files.  There was a file on Struker and a few more notable Hydra agents but it seemed like an easy in and out mission.  The easier, the better.  Then he could get back to Bucky so he wouldn’t be all alone in unfamiliar surroundings.  

“So, you think James is going to be okay all by himself?”  Nat asked as she sat down next to Steve.

“He should be.  I left him some money for food and Stark said he also installed Jarvis at that cabin so if he needs anything, Jarvis can help.”

The five of them made small-talk for the rest of the trip; talking about what they’d been doing since they last met up to save the world.  Stark was busy making some final adjustments to his suit, his helmet hanging off the handle of Steve’s motorcycle.  Thor was talking to Banner about the technology at Asgard and Natasha was busy cleaning out her guns.  He guessed now was the perfect time to catch up on a little bit of sleep before he had to suit up.

***  
  
A soon as they landed, the six of them filed out of the quinjet; Steve dragged his bike out of the jet as they took in their surroundings.  He buckled his helmet on as he mounted his bike and his eyes caught sight of a jeep driving up to the compound not far off.

“Nat and Barton, go for that Jeep.  Get to your location as quickly as possible and take out anyone you see along the way.  Banner, you know what to do, and Thor?  Light ‘em up.”  Steve could already hear the swinging of Thor’s hammer before he took off,  Barton and Natasha were already on their way to commandeering the Jeep a few yards away and Tony had just finished putting on his suit.

“Alright, Cap.  Meet you at the finish line.”  Stark said as he lowered the face mask of his suit.  The distant roar of the Hulk tearing down a bunker echoed across the forest, followed by a few explosions.  Steve revved the engine up and took off, speeding along a small beaten path as he tossed his shield at the Hydra agents charging towards him with guns drawn.

They were all horrible shots.

 _“Shit!_ ”  Stark said over their comms.

“Language!”  Steve replied sarcastically as he swerved around a tree.  “Jarvis, what’s the view from upstairs?”

“The central building is protected by some sort of energy shield.  Struker’s technology is well beyond any other Hydra base we’ve taken.”  Steve ducked out of the way of another shot aimed at his head.   _They were using weapons the Chitari used in New York_.  

 _“Loki’s Scepter must be here!  Struker couldn’t mount his defense without it.  At long last…”_ Thor’s voice called out over the comms.  He could hear a few guys screaming in pain before Nat’s voice cut in.

 _“At long last is lasting a little long, boys.”_ A grenade blast followed shortly after that statement.

 _“Yeah, I think we’ve lost the element of surprise.”_  Another explosion echoed off in the distance as Barton spoke up.  One bunker was down.

_“Wait a second...No one else is going to deal with the fact that Cap just said ‘language’?”_

“I know…” Steve leapt off his motorcycle, his hands still gripping the handles as he flipped the vehicle over his head and hurled it towards a group of hydra agents racing towards him in an SUV.  “It just slipped out.”

Everything was going to plan.  The Iron Legion was deployed to protect the city and it looked like Struker’s forces couldn’t hold out much longer.  What none of the Avengers knew, or expected, was there to be an enhanced on the field.  Steve made that discovery the second an unseen force sent him cartwheeling onto his back.  Something _had_ hit him; he felt it, but he didn’t see it.  

“We have an enhanced on the field!”  Steve panted into the comms, signalling his team to keep an eye out.

 _“Clint’s been hit!”_  Nat responded, and Steve was sure she was right by his side.  He could hear dozens of blasts at Nat and Barton’s location, and two seconds later, the Russian Assassin requested some assistance with a bunker.  Steve could hear the Hulk growling as he rushed to Natasha’s aid, tearing right through the bunker as Steve started coming under heavy fire.

“Stark!  We’re gonna need to get inside!”  Steve tossed his shield expertly into a Hydra agent’s collarbone, watching the man fall as he caught his shield.

  _“I’m closin’ in!”_ and moments later, Tony’s voice rang over their comms.   _“Drawbridge is down, people!”_

Thor touched down a few seconds later and Steve jogged over to him, catching his breath and assessing the situation.  There was an enhanced on the ground and Clint was injured.

“Any enhanced?”  Thor asked as he straightened up.

“He’s a blur.  All the new players we’ve faced, I’ve never seen this.  In fact, I still haven’t.”  Steve said as he looked around.  No sign of the enhanced in his area.

 _“Clint’s hit pretty bad, guys.  We’re gonna need e-vac.”_ Nat’s voice echoed through the comms.

“I can get Barton to the jet.  The sooner we’re gone, the better.  You and Stark secure the scepter.”  Thor suggested.

“Copy that.”  Steve responded as a tank and at least a dozen Hydra agents marched along its flank approached the two.

“Looks like they’re lining up!”  Thor exclaimed as he got his hammer ready.

“Well, they’re excited.”  Steve lifted his shield just as Thor swung Mjolnir down, and the reverberations from the impact sent the agents and the tank flying.  The two men exchanged a look before Thor swung his hammer.

“Find the scepter!”  Thor said before he flew off to assist Clint.

 _“And for gosh sake, watch your language!”_  Stark teased.  

Steve sighed and hung his head.

“That’s not going away anytime soon.”  He muttered to himself before he ran off to enter the compound.

There was a second enhanced.  He ran into her while talking to Struker.  He wasn’t even sure what her powers were, but he was sent flying backwards down a flight of stairs.  The one good thing that came out of this mission was that Struker was captured, Stark had found the scepter, and the six of them were back in the air within the hour.  Stark was manning the controls as the rest of them tended to Clint, making him as comfortable as possible until they were back at the Avengers tower, where he could get proper medical attention.  

Stark somehow managed to cut the travel time down to five hours before the quinjet touched down and Clint was rushed off to get mended while Steve talked with Maria about the mission and the two enhanced the team ran into.  Pietro and Wanda Maximoff.  Pietro had super-speed and Wanda could manipulate certain objects and peoples’ minds, and the fact that the both of them _volunteered_ angered Steve.  

“Pietro and Wanda Maximoff.  Have you heard of them, Buck?”  Steve asked the second he had a chance to call Bucky.  He was in the suite Stark had designed for him, and he was just changing out of his Cap suit.

_“I heard whispers about twins from my doctors, but I never knew their names.  I never saw them, and I can’t confirm that those whispers I heard were about them.  What’s this about, Steve?  Did you run into them on your mission?”_

“Yeah.  They _volunteered_ , Buck.  Frankly, I don’t know what to make of it.  I’m angry, but I want to help and understand them.”  Steve sighed as he sat down on the bed, sifting his fingers through his hair.  There was a pause on the other end of the line, like Bucky wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

_“Well, I’m glad you made it back safe, babe.  When are you coming to the cabin?”_

“I can leave right after the party Tony’s throwing tonight if you want.”

 _“A party?  Why wasn’t I invited?”_ Steve could hear the pout on the other line and couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Wanted you to keep the cabin warm for me when I came back, Buck,” he said before he pulled on a clean t-shirt and some jeans.

_“Well it’s plenty warm without you.  I got a fire goin’ but an empty bed.  D’you know this place has a sauna?  I’ve never seen anything like it.”_

“Well that’s Stark for you, Bucky.  Anyways, the party is just about to start and I should be there.  I love you, Buck.”

_“I love you too, Stevie.  Try and get drunk for me, ‘cause nothin’ Stark’s got here is doin’ the trick.”_

Steve chuckled and shook his head as he stood up to leave for the party, heading straight for the observation deck.

“You know I can’t get drunk, Bucky, but I’ll have a drink for you.”  Steve stated as he stepped into the elevator.  “Anyways, I have to go.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The party was great, but of course, Stark always threw amazing parties.  That’s just how he was.  Steve guessed it ran in the family, because Howard’s parties were just about as remarkable.  He honestly did wish Bucky was here.  He was sure Stark could get his boyfriend here in no time, but maybe just the small bit of distance and time away from each other would be good for them.  

Sam showed up, and Steve greeted his friend with a tight hug as he was handed a drink.  They joked around with each other and caught each other up on what was going on as they played a few rounds of pool.  Steve could tell Sam had a good buzz going after his third beer, but he knew nothing here could get him drunk.  That is, until Thor showed up with a flask of his own, filled with some sort of mead.  He poured a bit into Steve’s drink as they caught up with each other and talked about their plans afterwards.  

“You should come up and visit the cabin Bucky and I are staying at over christmas.  I’m sure you’ll like it,”  Steve suggested as he took a sip of his drink.  There definitely was a _kick_ to the whiskey after Thor had mixed in what he had brought.

“I understand if you can’t make it, considering this whole thing with Loki’s scepter.”

“Yeah, well…”  Thor said with a shrug and a sloppy smile as he took a drink from his own glass.  “You know how Loki is.  It’s either _him_ that’s causing the trouble, or _something of his_.  You never can trust the guy, but he’s my brother.”

There was a pause, and Steve was sure Thor was reflecting on all the good and bad moments he shared with Loki.  Steve would probably never see that side of Thor’s dark-haired brother.

“I’ll try and make it, my friend.”  Thor’s voice broke the lull in their conversation as the larger blond clasped his hand on Steve’s shoulder in a friendly gesture before they parted ways.

The party died down sometime between three and four in the morning.  Steve had actually gotten a pretty decent buzz from that mead Thor had mixed into his drink, but he wasn’t drunk; couldn’t get drunk.  Mostly everyone had left the building, save for the Avengers, Maria Hill, Rhodey and Doctor Cho, who had settled around a large, glass coffee table to finish their drinks and _try_ to lift Mjolnir.  

Barton went first, and failed.  Stark and Rhodey teamed up to try and lift the hammer, but failed, even with the assistance of their suits.  Banner also gave it a shot, and everyone tensed in fear of him turning green.  No such thing happened, and Steve finally decided to give it a shot.  He pushed himself off the couch and stepped up to Mjolnir, rolling up his sleeves as he glanced down at the weapon.  

The thought of actually being able to _lift_ Mjolnir was daunting.  What if he could?  Would he actually rule Asgard?  Probably not.  From what he understood, Odin still ruled the city.  Steve read the engraving on the side of the hammer.

_Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor._

Would that mean he could control _thunder?_  Granted, thunder was the aftereffect of a lightning strike, but Thor was the _God of Thunder_.  That was actually a thing.  He’d seen it happen.  He’d seen the lightning and felt the force through his shield.  He took a breath before he wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled.  

 _It shifted_.

Just a little bit, but it _moved_.  Does that count as almost being worthy?  Steve wasn’t sure what just happened, but he decided to give it another go.  It didn’t budge the second time around and Steve sat back down, defeated.

Nat then had the opportunity to lift Mjolnir, but she graciously turned it down.

“ _No,_ that’s not a question I need answering,” she stated as she sat back and took a sip of her beer.

They all argued amongst themselves about how only Thor could lift the hammer before the God stood up to break up the argument.

“Yes, that’s a very _very_ interesting theory, but I have a simpler one.  You’re all not worthy!”  He stated as he lifted up his hammer and flipped it around in his hand.

The most cringe-worthy sound echoed around the room, killing whatever laughter and jokes people had about who was worthy and who wasn’t.  It was nearly as bad as a fork dragging across a plate, or nails on a chalkboard.  It made Steve’s jaw clench momentarily before he recovered and looked around for the source of the noise.

“No.  How could you be worthy?  You’re all killers.” came a deep, metallic voice from one of Tony’s Iron Legion suits.  The frame was partially disassembled and covered in _something_ .  Steve stiffened, not taking his eyes off the robot, but _Stark definitely had something to do with this._

“Stark…”

“Jarvis?”  Stark called.  No answer.

“Sorry, I was asleep...or I was a dream?”

Stark was fiddling with one of his handheld controllers.

“Reboot.  Legionnaire oh-six’s got a buggy suit.”  Stark mumbled under his breath.

“There was this...terrible noise...and I was tangled in... in…”  The suit struggled to find its words as it hobbled around in place.  

“... _strings_ ,”  The suit continued.  “Had to kill the other guy.  He was a good guy.”

“You _killed_ someone?”  Steve raised a brow.  The suit didn’t even look like it could hold itself together long enough to kill someone.

“Wouldn’t have been my first call.  But, down in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”  The suit quipped, its mechanical voice deepening.  It was like it had _feeling_ , though Steve sometimes thought Jarvis was real.  He _sounded_ like he had feelings.

“Who sent you?”  Thor asked the drone.  Ultron answered by playing a small clip.

_“‘I see a suit of armor around the world.’”_

“Ultron!”  Banner exclaimed.

“In the flesh!” Ultron replied proudly.  “Or no, not yet.  Not this...chrysalis.  But I’m ready.  I’m on a mission.”

“What mission?”  Natasha asked.

“Peace in our time.”  Ultron replied darkly as the Iron Legion that Tony had created busted through the walls and started attacking _them_.  

Steve ducked away from a few blasts from the suits before he leapt onto the back of one, trying to tear it apart.  The suit flung him against a wall, and he fell into a crumpled heap on the floor.  It took him merely _seconds_ to get back onto his feet and jump back into the fray and start ripping the suits apart.  Clint tossed him his shield, and Steve threw the shield at the only suit remaining, slicing it in half.  The robot fell the ground with a loud crash and Steve straightened back up.

“That was dramatic!”  Ultron hissed, hobbling around as the robot eyed the team.

“I'm sorry, I know you mean well. You just didn't think it through.”  Ultron continued.  “You want to protect the world, but you don't want it to _change_.  How is humanity saved if it's not allowed to...evolve?  With these? These puppets?  There's only one path to peace.  The Avengers' extinction.”  

Thor threw his hammer at Ultron, and the team watched as the drone crumpled into a broken heap on the floor.

_“I had strings, but now I'm free...There are no strings on me, no strings on me…”_

_\---_

**_December 7th, 2016_ **

Something was wrong.  Something was very, _very_ wrong.  Steve wasn’t answering his calls and Jarvis wasn’t answering any of his questions.  Bucky’s first instinct was to lock himself away until he heard _something_ from _someone_ , but he knew that wouldn’t do any good.  

Steve was supposed to be here _yesterday_ , and he had waited patiently for his boyfriend, trying to make up excuses as to why he was late.  Maybe there was some spur-of-the-moment Avengers press conference about their mission.  Maybe Steve got lost.  It wasn’t until he turned on the news that he knew something was wrong.

The Avengers tower had been attacked by one of Tony Starks’ inventions; a program named Ultron.  Bucky clenched his jaw as he watched the story unfold; the media rushing to uncover any new information.  He should be there; _he should be fighting with them_ .  Bucky knew he could help, yet here he was, useless.  He felt _alone_ , and he was usually used to that feeling, but that feeling also usually came with hope; hope for making it out alive and being free.  Granted, it was always a false hope fed to him by his handlers, but it kept him alive.  Now that he was free, happy, and had someone that had kept him grounded and safe, his hope was replaced with the feeling of helplessness because that person was in danger.

He needed to keep himself busy.

Bucky had kept his eyes glued to the television screen for as long as he could without going mad with worry, but he eventually had to step away.  He would have torn the cabin apart with anger and worry if he stayed.  He debated on calling Sam, but maybe a bit of fresh air would do him some good instead.  

So Bucky slipped on his coat, pulled on his boots and headed outside.  The snow coming down was thick, and was already deep enough to cover his knees if he actually decided to wander off the path.  Thank god Stark had installed a heated driveway, so he had no problems getting in or out of the house if he decided to take a drive.  Instead, he walked; he’d walk until his feet got tired, not caring if the numbness got to them first.  He chose to walk in the street, as not all of the sidewalks were shovelled clean yet.

As he was turning a corner, he heard a feeble, shaky voice of an old woman calling him.

“Young man, could you help me?”

At first, he wasn’t sure if she was addressing him or someone else close by, so he glanced around quickly as he stopped in his tracks before he noticed an old woman hunched over a shovel in her driveway.

“Are you talking to me?”

“Well I sure as hell am not talking to a tree!  Come here, sonny, and help a poor woman out.  I don’t want to get snowed in!”  She exclaimed and Bucky cautiously stepped up to her.

“What’s your name, kid?  I haven’t seen you around these parts before.”  The woman asked as she handed Bucky her shovel.

“James.”  He replied with a forced smile, feeling unsure as she forced the handle of the shovel into his right hand.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, James.  I’m Beatrice, but mostly everyone calls me Batty Beatie.  When you get done, you come inside to warm up.  I’ll make you some cocoa.”

Bucky just nodded reluctantly and watched as she turned to head inside.  He could just leave the driveway unshoveled and walk away.  He didn’t _have_ to help this woman out, but he remembered helping Mrs. Berkovitz shovel her steps in the winter so she wouldn’t get snowed in and it put him in a better mood.  So he got to work, shoveling her driveway and her sidewalk without question or complaint.

When he was finished, he leaned the shovel against the side of the house by the porch and knocked quietly.  Beatrice answered the door with a warm smile and a plate of cookies in her hand.  Bucky couldn’t help but smile back awkwardly as she invited him inside.

“Come on in, dear and make yourself at home.  Just take off your coat and your boots on the way in and I’ll get you some cocoa.”  

Bucky did as he was told, peeling off his jacket before he knelt down to take off his boots.  The brunet bit his lip nervously wandered into the main room and sat down in a chair.  

“I wasn’t sure if you liked marshmallows with your cocoa but I put a few in anyways.”  Beatrice said as she waddled back into the room, and Bucky’s eyes instantly fell on the white cat trailing behind her.  The old woman seemed to notice Bucky’s intent stare and smiled as she handed over the warm mug of cocoa.

“Oh, this is Sergeant Piddles.”

“Sergeant?”  Bucky asked as the cat slinked over to his feet, sniffing cautiously.

“Exactly.  My granddaughter named him. ”  Beatrice said with a smile as she settled down on the couch.  “So what do you do?”

“What do you mean?”  Bucky answered back.

“For a living...what do you do?”  

Bucky shrugged as he looked away.  Sergeant Piddles slinked his way onto his lap and curled up, purring contently as Bucky scratched his chin.

“I um...not much, really, I guess.  My frie--boyfriend has been trying to get me back on my feet after the um...war, I guess.”  Bucky lied.  Well, it was a half-lie.  “He was supposed to come up to the cabin with me for a winter vacation but he got called away on business.”  

“What does he do?”

“He freelances.”  It was the first thing that Bucky came up with that wouldn’t give Steve away as Captain America.  “I’m not entirely sure where he was headed when he left; I haven’t heard from him in a few days.”

“Well I’m sure he’s fine, dear.  So you mentioned you served in the military?  Is that how you got the arm?”

Bucky could sense Beatrice eyeing his arm and he smiled nervously, trying to be polite when he was feeling so uneasy.  

“Yeah.  ‘s top of the line, from what I was told.”  Bucky mumbled as he gulped down the rest of his cocoa, feeling a bit anxious with someone else besides _Steve_ commenting on his arm.  He was used to showing it off around Steve, but a stranger?  No.  That was out of the question.

“Yeah, it looks like one of those gadgets that Tony Stark fellow makes.  Anyways, I think it suits you.”  Beatrice beamed, seeming to sense the tension emanating off of Bucky’s nervous frame.  

“Anyways, I should probably get going.  It’s getting a bit late.  It was nice meeting you, Beatrice, and thank you for the cocoa.”  Bucky mumbled as he picked Sergeant up off his lap and moved to head for the door.

“Why don’t you stop by tomorrow, James?  I need some help cleaning out my attic and you can stick around for dinner if you want, and if your boyfriend shows up, he can come along too!”  

Bucky nodded as he slipped on his boots and reached for his jacket.

“Oh, and where are my manners?  Gosh, I didn’t even pay you for your work today!  You’re halfway out the door and I’m sure you’re expecting some form of payment.  You stay right there while I go get my purse!”  Beatrice frowned and instantly shuffled out of the foyer to get her purse.  Bucky wasn’t even expecting to be payed for shovelling a driveway, so he was tempted to just walk out without accepting anything else from the old lady, but Beatrice returned before he could make the decision to leave.  

“Here you go, dear!”  Beatrice thrusted two crisp twenty dollar bills into his hand without any further explanation and grinned.  “You can stop by around two and we’ll get to work.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”  Bucky responded as he smiled weakly, shoving the money into his pocket quickly.  Beatrice beamed up at him as he reached for the door and walked out without another word.

Maybe Steve would be waiting for him back at the cabin when he returned.  He trudged back through the snow-covered streets trying to keep his hopes up as he headed back for home, only to walk into an empty house.  Bucky’s heart sank as he tossed his coat on a nearby chair and flipped on the television.  That’s when he noticed something was wrong.  A news reporter was doing a story on the destruction in Cape Town, South Africa.  Small clips of The Hulk flashed across the large television screen as he tore apart buildings, and Bucky’s heart sank even deeper into his stomach.  Steve was there.  Steve was in _danger_.  He sat, eyes glued to the television for what felt like hours as news reporters scrambled to report any new information about the brutal destruction.  The only thing that interrupted his attention was his phone, which started vibrating on the coffee table.

 _“Buck?”_  Steve’s tired voice croaked through his earpiece the second Bucky answered.

“Oh my god!  Steve!  Are you okay?  Where are you?”

 _“No...I saw something…”_  Steve’s voice shook.   _“I saw Peggy.  We were in a dance hall.  She said the war was over.  Something just didn’t feel right about it though.  Then I saw you.  The you I always saw in my nightmares --”_

“What are you talking about, Steve?  What nightmares?”  Bucky’s own voice shook at what Steve was telling him.

_“I used to have nightmares where I would see you, dressed to the nines in your old uniform...the one you wore at the Stark Expo back in the day, except you were missing the arm.  The wound wasn’t closed, and just that one sleeve would be soaked in blood, but you always acted like everything was fine.  I saw you at that dance hall with Peggy.  You asked me why I didn’t look for you.”_

“Oh Stevie…”  Bucky croaked, his throat tight as he tried to hold back his own emotions.

_“I’m so sorry, Buck.”_

“Steve, stop it.  We already talked about this.  I’m here now and I’m not leaving.  I love you.  Now where the fuck are you?”

_“Clint’s house.  ‘s in the middle of nowhere; probably Nebraska or something...on a farm.”_

“What’s going on?  Why are you there?”

 _“Ultron.”_ Steve sounded physically and emotionally exhausted.   _“It’s something Stark’s been working on.  A program...some sort artificial intelligence.  He said it was supposed to be some sort of peacekeeping program, but it went south.”_

Bucky sighed, sitting back on the couch as he took in the information.  All he wanted was for Steve to be home, with him, and safe.

 _“We don’t know what he’s planning next, Buck.”_ Steve sighed helplessly.

“Can we not talk about this?  I just...shit, Stevie.  I miss you.  I’m glad you made it out safely...after that nightmare, but jesus, you had me worried sick.  Please don’t do anything stupid while you’re gone, Stevie.  I can’t lose you.”

_"You’re a fuckin’ jerk, Bucky.  Y’know that, right?”_

“Worrying about your safety and your health makes me a jerk now?  You’re a fucking punk, Stevie.  Always have been.”  There was a small hint of a smile in Bucky’s voice as he said those words.  

_“I love you, Bucky, but I have to get going.  I need to help the team figure out what we’re doing next.”_

After Steve and Bucky said their goodbyes, all he could feel was even more _worried_ about the situation now that he knew what was going on.  All the worrying made him exhausted, yet he hated the thought of sleeping in an empty bed.  The only way he ever felt comfortable with sleeping in a bed was when Steve was with him.  So he slept in the only place he was comfortable with; the tub.  

The next morning was just about as rough as the day before.  The only difference was that he knew why Steve hadn’t returned to the cabin.  The thought of losing his boyfriend hung over his head like a dark cloud, and he almost didn’t have the energy to get out of ‘bed’, but Beatrice was expecting him.  So he went through the motions of cleaning himself up, getting dressed and eating a quick and meager breakfast.  He didn’t think he could handle much in the way of food until Steve returned.  

When it was time for him to leave the house to see Beatrice, he practically dragged his feet down the road, barely looking up to see where he was going.  He was lucky enough to land himself on Beatrice’s doorstep and rang the doorbell.  

“James!  Oh, you look terrible!  What’s wrong, dear?  Come inside and tell me all about it.  I’ll make you some coffee.”  Beatrice said as she opened the door and quickly ushered him inside, seeming to sense his sadness.

“Got a call from Ste--my boyfriend last night.  He was in South Africa.”  Bucky’s throat felt tight and he couldn’t look up from his lap the second he sat down.

“Oh no, dear!  Please tell me he didn’t get hurt over there.”

“He says he’s safe, but I don’t know if he’ll ever come back home.  He does stupid shit all the time and I’m afraid he’ll do something stupid and reckless out there.”    
“Is your boyfriend associated with those Avengers I keep hearing about on the news?”  Beatrice asked.  Shit, did he give Steve away?

Bucky wasn’t sure how to answer at first; he wasn’t sure if Beatrice’s opinion of him would change if he said ‘yes.’  The thought was almost daunting, but the old lady was someone he had only met just yesterday.  Her opinion shouldn’t matter.

“Yeah he’s um...Captain America.”  Bucky blushed, biting his lip.

“Oh, he was such a gentleman when I met him back in the forties.  Such a dreamboat, that man.  He had no idea how to talk to a woman,”  Beatrice chuckled.  “I see why you like him, though.  How long have you two been dating?”

“Just a few weeks.  ‘ve known him most of my life, though.  Since I was a kid.  Loving him is like second nature to me now.”

“How’ve you known him for--”  A look of recognition suddenly crossed over Beatrice’s face and she smiled.  “Bucky.  You’re James Buchanan Barnes!  Gosh, I never would have guessed with that hairstyle and those piercings.  I thought you had fallen off a train.”

Bucky forced a smile and nodded.  So now Beatrice knew.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  No one but Steve, the Avengers and Sam knew who he was.  The rest of the world hadn’t placed the pieces together.  No one else knew he was The Winter Soldier and he wasn’t about to tell Beatrice what he had done.

“I did.  It’s kind of a long story.  Something I don’t really feel comfortable with talking about.”  Bucky croaked.

“Well Steve’s a lucky guy, then, and whatever he’s gotten himself into, I’m sure he’ll be okay.”  Beatrice tried to reassure him that Steve knew what he was doing and that he would be okay.  “Now why don’t we take your mind off what’s going on with the Avengers and help me clean the attic?”

Bucky nodded reluctantly and sighed, pushing himself up out of the chair.  He dragged his feet as he followed Beatrice up a large set of stairs, still feeling the worry in the back of his mind that something would go wrong; that Steve couldn’t control the situation with Ultron and he would end up dead.

“The door’s just off to the left, dear.”  Beatrice motioned towards the door tucked away in the corner, visible from the second floor balcony.  He let Beatrice open the door for him and he slowly followed her up to the attic.  It was dusty and smelled like mothballs, and the entire room was nearly packed to the brim with old furniture, memorabilia, and other random knick knacks.  

“Is there anything you want me to keep or toss, Beatrice?”

“I’ve got at least a dozen boxes up there that need to be sent to Goodwill for donation and maybe you can carry them down to the car for me, sonny.  I’ll help you sort through all the knick knacks until I have to go make dinner.”

Bucky nodded and the two got to work, digging through old boxes and sorting through every dusty piece of clothing and knick knack that wasn’t already labelled for donation.  A lot of it was getting tossed, but Beatrice decided to keep a few things, like her wedding dress, countless boxes of photos and photo albums, and a few boxes of her summer clothes.

Bucky stopped when he found a box full of her husband’s old things -- his uniform from the war, still in pristine condition, a few old guns in a lock box underneath that were in desperate need of cleaning, and his boots.

“What war was your husband in?”  Buckys' fingers grazed over the countless awards still pinned to the uniform.

“Vietnam.  He died a few years later from complications caused by Agent Orange.”  There was a sadness in Beatrice’s voice and Bucky couldn’t help but frown.  He remembered doing a mission related to the Vietnam war.  He had to kill someone important; someone that played a part in the war, but he couldn’t place a name or a face to the mission he was put on.  

He couldn’t remember, until he came across a newspaper clipping from the New York Times with large, black letters printed across the page: “KENNEDY IS KILLED BY SNIPER AS HE RIDES IN CAR IN DALLAS; JOHNSON SWORN IN ON PLANE”.  

“James?  What’s wrong?”

Bucky could feel the color draining from his face.  He felt sick, and he quickly bolted from the attic and found the nearest bathroom, locking himself in.  He killed Kennedy.  He retched into the sink as he tried to shake the memory.  He needed to call Steve.  He would know what to do.  He fumbled for his phone, shaking as he dialled Steve’s number.  He probably wouldn’t pick up; he had Ultron to deal with.  

“Fuck.”  Bucky choked out as he retched into the sink.  He felt terrible for Beatrice.  He probably scared her half to death with the way he was acting.  

“James?  Are you okay?”  Beatrice’s worried voice echoed through the bathroom door.

“N-no.”  Bucky coughed, slumping down onto the pastel pink tile.  He stared down at the ceramic tile like it was the most interesting thing in the world.   _Pink._  It seemed so dated but it snapped him back into another time.  He remembered a pastel pink bathroom in Brooklyn, rotted out with chipped tile and a rusty tub.  The taps didn’t work and he desperately needed to clean himself up.  He remembered that he had escaped his handlers for a few weeks after a mission.  The small amount of freedom he had experienced in that time period had made him feel anxious.

“Care to talk about it, James?”

He didn’t _want_ to talk about it.  He could barely admit it to himself, and the thought just made him feel more ill with every passing second.  

“Would you hate me if I did?”  Bucky groaned as he sat back against the door, trying to calm himself down.  

“Would Steve hate you if you told him?”  Beatrice responded.

“No.”  He didn’t even hesitate with that answer.  He knew Steve could never hate him.  They fought time and time again, but Steve always came back.  Steve always forgave him, and loved him.

“Then you can tell me.”

Bucky sighed, running his hand over his face as he tried to clear his mind.  

“For seventy years, I was a prisoner of war,” Bucky started, voice rough and tired.  “I was experimented on, tortured, brainwashed...It’s how I survived.  They made me kill people; important people.  I had a mission in Dallas during the Vietnam war.  I was sent to kill--”

“Kennedy.”  Beatrice finished.  “That was you?”

Bucky paused.  He wondered if Beatrice would be angry with him, or turn him into the cops.  He knew he shouldn’t be talking about this with anyone outside of his inner circle of close friends, but here he was.  He bit his lip and tried to shake the memory as he confessed.

“Yeah.  I don’t remember much of it.  The details are a bit fuzzy, but I know it was me.”  Bucky sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes.  

“Well, you said you were brainwashed, right?  It wasn’t you then, dear.  It was the people who controlled you, but you’re allowed to feel guilty for the things they made you do.  You’re only human, after all.  Now why don’t we take a break from cleaning the attic and when you’re ready to come out of the bathroom, you can help me make dinner?  Do you like lasagna, James?”

“Yeah, ‘s good.  I’ll be out in a few minutes, Bea.”  Bucky grunted, slowly standing up and steadying himself against the wall.  He looked like shit.  He could see the dark circles staring back at him as he approached the sink.  He quickly splashed some cold water on his face in the hopes that it would make him feel a bit better.  It would be a temporary fix, and he reluctantly unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out when he was ready.

Bucky dragged his feet into the kitchen where Beatrice was leaning over a large saucepan, stirring away at whatever she was cooking.  

“Sonny, can you be a dear and get a jar of crushed tomatoes out of the fridge?”  Beatrice didn’t waste any time in asking Bucky for help, and he quickly shoved all thoughts aside as he shuffled over to the fridge and dug through its contents for the jar.

“Here you go, Bea.”  Bucky sighed, opening the jar for Bea as he waited for her next instructions.

“Dinner won’t be ready for a few hours once the sauce is simmering.  Is there anything you found in the attic you’d like to take home with you?  I’ve got no use for most of that stuff anyways.”

Bucky instantly thought of those guns that were stored in the attic that belonged to Bea’s late husband.  He knew it was probably too much to ask of her, but the worst she could say was ‘no’.  

“Would you mind if I take home some of the guns your husband owned?  It’s just...they remind me of the guns I used to use during the war.”  Bucky asked as Bea asked him to get some garlic from the pantry.

“What would a little old lady like me do with guns?  I’ve got no use for them, dear.  You take ‘em.  They’re just wasting space and collecting dust up there anyways.”    
Bucky smiled weakly.  He wasn’t sure why, but having a gun in his hand always made him feel more comfortable.  

The two worked together for the next few minutes preparing the sauce until they had to let it simmer for a few hours.  Beatrice handed him a mug of coffee and she ushered him into her main room.  

“Would you mind if we talked about what happened the day you were forced to kill Kennedy?”  Beatrice asked as she sat across from him.  Bucky hunched over his hot cup of coffee, looking down into his lap.

Yeah, he did mind.  Beatrice was a stranger, someone he had only met just yesterday and now she was asking him to open up about one of his missions?

“Can we not do this, please?”  His grip tightened on the warm mug of coffee.  “I know you mean well, Bea, but that part of my life is something I’m still trying to work through.  All I’m willing to tell you right now is that I remember looking down my scope and pulling the trigger on one of our nations’ Presidents.  I was in, I was out and I met with my handlers at the rendezvous point a few blocks away as soon as my job was done.”

Bucky shook.  He was feeling sick and anxious and just wanted to get out of there.  He knew Bea wanted him to stay for dinner, but he was quickly losing his appetite.

“I’m sorry, James.  I shouldn’t have asked.  I just remember seeing the broadcast on my neighbor’s TV.  They sent one of their kids over to get me so we could all watch the news together.  The entire nation sort of... _froze_ .  Businesses closed for the rest of the day;  people were _terrified._  A lot of things changed after JFK was killed.  People stopped trusting our government, more of our troops were deployed to Vietnam.  We didn’t have much prominence in the Vietnam War until JFK was assassinated.  That incident was what launched the US into that war.”

“ _Great_.  I started a war.”  Bucky croaked.  

“Vietnam was already at war, dear.”  Bea reminded him.  It didn’t make Bucky feel any better and he just sat slumped in his chair.  “Anyways, I better go stir the pot.  You do anything you need to do to feel better, James.  I’ll be back shortly.”

Bucky was left to his own devices for a good chunk of the evening.  Bea would pop in every so often to check on him, but he busied himself with reading the newspaper or flipping through channels on the TV.  He tried his hardest to stay away from the news stations, knowing they’d be reporting on whatever the Avengers were doing.  He didn’t need more to worry about.

The only time Bucky left the main room was to help Beatrice in the kitchen when she called for him.  He helped her add ingredients to the dish and helped her start layering the lasagna before it was placed in the oven to cook.  Cooking kept his mind off of everything going on in his mind for a brief moment.  Keeping himself busy meant keeping his mind off of how worried he was about Steve, and about his mission in Dallas.  

“What did Steve and you used to do for Christmas, Bucky?  Maybe I can help you plan something.”

“I’d always buy him some art supplies.  Best I could find on the streets at the time.  He wouldn’t really let me look at a lot of his drawings, but he’d always draw one special just for me for Christmas.  Sometimes he’d draw a portrait of me, and other times he’d give me a drawing of my sister, Rebecca.  Sometimes, though, he’d draw a memory we both shared.  I always liked those the best, ‘cause it always felt like something only we shared.  It’s all I ever really wanted from him, to be honest.  Neither of us ever asked for much of each other.  We already had everything we needed.”  Bucky smiled.  

Christmas was something he could always remember about Steve.  He remembered the colds, the fevers, the coughs and the chills every single night.  It was hard to forget, but Bucky was always there.

“I used to pick up a whole chicken from the market and cook it.  It was nothing special, but it was the one time of the year we tried to splurge and make some sort of official Christmas Dinner, ya know?  He always said I didn’t have to; he couldn’t really eat it half the time anyways, as he was sick most of the holiday season.  It’s the thought that counts though, right?”  Bucky asked with a shrug as he sprinkled some mozzarella cheese on the top layer of the dish.  

“He says he doesn’t get sick anymore though.  It’s weird.  I’ve known this kid most of my life.  I remember him always being sick.  Then one day I wake up, strapped down to a table and there’s this big fella hovering over me and he has Steve’s voice.  He says he’s Steve, n’ all of a sudden I had this new role to play.  I wasn’t Steve’s caregiver, his nurse.  I was just his best friend.  He acted like everything was fine but _jesus christ,_ it wasn’t.  It’s still not okay.  How can he be okay with going from a skinny little runt of a guy, to being built like a fucking freight train and in perfect health?”  Bucky leaned against the counter, head looking down at the granite like it was the most interesting thing in the world.  He soon realized he had been rambling and bit his lip nervously.  He’d never really confided his thoughts about Steve with anyone; not even his handlers.  

“How long have you loved him?”  Bea’s voice was soft, and he could sense the curiosity in her voice.

“Since I was fifteen.  We were at Coney Island, and we just got off the Cyclone, and I _knew_ .  Just by the way he looked at me, I _knew_ I was in love with him.  I tried to shake it; I really did.  Jesus christ, if anyone knew back then, I would have been in deep shit.”  Bucky tried to laugh off that small bit of fear that he had held onto for so long.  He had to keep reminding himself that things were different now; people were more accepting.  Hell, Steve loved him _back_ and that should have been enough to keep his fears at bay.  He quickly rubbed his right hand over his face before he decided to help Bea put the lasagna in the oven to cook.  

They spent the rest of the evening talking about the wars; both World War II and Vietnam.  It’s the only thing that kept his mind off Sokovia.  He told Bea about his very first date with Steve over dinner, how he got all dressed up and made his boyfriend a fancy dinner and danced in the park.  It put his worries at ease.

Bea sent him off that night with another small wad of money and the two guns that were left in her attic.  The cabin was empty when he got home and he sighed, feeling his heart sink.  Another night without Steve.  He knew it was probably good for him to have some time just to himself, but a part of him still felt _empty._  He spent the night watching movies in Stark’s home theater and cleaning the guns Bea had given him, only to fall asleep in the chair he was sitting in hours later.  

\---

**_December 10th, 2016_ **

“Jesus fucking  _ christ _ , Steve.  What the hell happened?”  

Those were the first words out of Bucky’s mouth the second Steve walked into the cabin, dropping his bag on the floor tiredly.  Bucky greeted him at the door with open arms.  There was no  _ ‘I love you _ ’, or anything, but Steve knew the moment he felt those strong arms wrapping around him.  Bucky didn’t have to say those three words; he just looked into the brunet’s eyes and  _ knew. _  The blond smiled exhaustedly and let Bucky look him over.  There was a large gash along his jaw that had stopped bleeding hours ago and was in the process of healing, and his entire body was littered with bruises that hadn’t yet disappeared.  Ultron and his army of robots had really done a number on him.

“Missed you too, jerk.”  That got Bucky to smile.  He missed that smile.

“Come on, let me clean you up, babe.”  Steve could already feel Bucky’s right hand slipping into his, and he easily followed as he was lead off to another part of the cabin.  He knew he was perfectly capable of cleaning himself up, but there was no point in trying to argue about it now.  It was somewhat of a habit for Bucky, ever since they were children.  Bucky would always tend to Steve’s wounds after he had picked a fight with a schoolyard bully, but now with his enhanced metabolism and healing capabilities, he didn’t really need any sort of medical attention unless it was severe enough.

“Arms up.”  Bucky ordered the second the two stepped into a very spacious bathroom.

“Jesus, Buck.  You don’t waste any time, do you?”  Steve asked as he lifted his arms up, only to drop them back down to his side once Bucky peeled his shirt off of him.

“Never wasted time with you, punk.”  Bucky beamed at him, inching closer to inspect his injuries.  There was a large gash across Steve’s left flank, coated in dried blood, but it was healing up quite nicely.  Bruises littered his arms and rib cage and there were a few scorch marks that dotted his torso.

Bucky pressed his lips against each little mark, and with each little kiss, Steve fell a little bit more in love with him.  The blond sifted his fingers through those long brunet locks as he pulled Bucky into a kiss.  He hadn’t realized how much he had missed the taste and the feel of his boyfriend’s lips against his until that very moment.

Bucky practically melted into the kiss as Steve slowly licked into his open mouth.  His own hands started to explore his boyfriend’s body, fingers rucking up his shirt as he dared to touch, his fingertips grazing against Bucky’s abdomen.  He could feel the brunet shiver against him before pressing closer, their lips never parting.  The two held firmly onto each other as Bucky steered Steve over to the sink.

The brunet didn’t miss a beat; he only pulled away briefly to wet a small washcloth and start dabbing at Steve’s bloodied and bruised skin gently.  He peppered soft kisses against his boyfriend’s lips every chance he got, and Steve returned every kiss before Bucky pulled away to focus on cleaning him up.

Every kiss was a whispered promise.   _ I’ll never leave you.  I love you.  ‘Til the end of the line. _  Steve wasn’t even focused on the pain; he was focused on Bucky.  He could feel his own heart pounding rapidly in his chest, and he swallowed hard as he gazed at his boyfriend’s focused expression.

“Buck…”  Steve whispered.

“Yeah, Stevie?”  Bucky barely looked up from the wound he was dabbing along his ribcage, and Steve quickly reached down, his hand covering the brunet’s and holding it there.  His boyfriend instantly stopped to look up into his eyes and he suddenly felt uneasy about what he was thinking of saying.

“So um...while I was dealing with Ultron in Sokovia, I thought about you.  I want to get to know every part of you, intimately.”  Steve swallowed nervously.  “I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it out of there alive, and I think my biggest regret would be not knowing what every inch of  _ you _ felt like.”

“Steve...What are y--”  Bucky paused, Steve’s words suddenly clicking in his mind and he suddenly paled.  “Are you sure?  Like...now?  Y-you wanna do this now?”  Bucky swallowed hard, nervousness and  _ fear  _ crossing over his features.  Something was wrong.  The intimacy would have to wait.

“We don’t have to do this now, Bucky.”  Steve whispered as he carefully pulled Bucky’s hand away from the wound and set the blood-stained cloth aside.  The brunet tensed at the touch and quickly tore his hand away, shoving Steve aside as he backed into a corner.

“Buck?  What’s wrong?”

“S-stay away!  Don’t touch me!”  Steve stopped inching towards Bucky, watching sadly as his boyfriend shrunk down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest.  When he looked back up at the blond, something had changed.  This ice-blue eyes were colder, more calculating, but still filled with so much fear and pain that it caught Steve off guard.  

Steve knelt down a few feet away from his boyfriend, taking things slow.  He watched the brunet cautiously, not making any sudden movements, and what movements he did make, he made sure to tell Bucky beforehand.  Something had changed about Bucky; there was a stillness about him, something slightly inhuman about how he carried himself.  He was a machine; the perfect weapon.  

Steve swallowed and looked down at the tile floor.  He was unsure of what to think about this situation.  He had only made one simple statement, and that statement had caused  _ this. _

“Buck, you know I wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.”  Steve slowly looked up into Bucky’s eyes; his features unchanging and cold.

“The same…” Steve struggled, taking a deep, shaky breath. “...applies to you, Soldier.”

He hated seeing Bucky like this.  The blond knew that The Winter Soldier was a part of Bucky’s life, and nothing could erase that, so when his boyfriend got like this, it felt like he was back at square one.  Yet he tried his hardest to be inclusive.  

“I’m going to get a bit closer, okay, soldier?”  The soldier nodded his response stiffly and Steve cautiously scooted his way over to Bucky, who watched his every move like a hawk.

“Will you allow me to hold your hand, soldier?  I won’t do anything else unless you ask me to.”  Steve waited patiently for an answer, and it took a few moments of sitting in silence without moving a muscle for the soldier to comply, nodding his head again stiffly before he cautiously reached his right hand out towards Steve.  The blond slowly reached over and slipped his hand into Bucky’s, their fingers lacing together.

“Like I said on our first date.  I love you; I love every part of you.  Even the darkest parts of you.  Nothing is going to change that.  Now, would you care to talk about it?  I won’t judge you.”

This was the first time the Soldier looked away from him, and instead, stared emotionless at his own feet.  Steve squeezed his boyfriend’s hand gently, never looking away.  The fear in those cold blue eyes quickly returned, and Steve knew the soldier was remembering something.  Bucky was returning to him, and the soldier’s hand squeezed around his a bit tighter.

“When Rumlow was my handler, things were different.  He was more...physically abusive to keep me in line.  He once fired a gun so close to my ear that I had suffered temporary hearing loss.”  Steve squeezed his hand again, trying to reassure Bucky.  This was still the Soldier talking.  His words were a bit harsh and distant, like he would prefer to forget the things that had happened to him, but his voice still shook with fear.

“He came in once, with a handful of other men.  He ordered me to strip.  I did without question; I…” The Soldier swallowed hard, his eyes glazing over with a thin film of tears.  This was the first time the Soldier showed any sort of emotion other than fear.  This was  _ pain _ .  Steve squeezed his hand again.

“It’s okay, Soldier.  It’s only us here.”  Steve whispered.

“I was ordered to touch myself,”  The Soldier’s voice shook.  “I’d never been ordered to do that under Pierce’s supervision.  The men laughed and made jokes about how  _ that _ part of my body looked while Rumlow stood back and watched.  I got hard; couldn’t help it.  It was just my body’s natural reaction to being stimulated.  I was ordered to get on my knees.  I-I wanted to fight back.”

The Soldier’s hand shook, but Steve refused to let go.  He clasped his other hand over Bucky’s, pulling himself just a little bit closer.  The Soldier tensed, eyes wide as Steve leaned over cautiously to kiss his knuckles.

“Hey, buddy.  ‘s just me.  It’s your Steve.  I’m not trying to hurt you, okay?  I love you.”

The Soldier nodded, and Steve continued.

“You tell me what happened to you, okay?  We can watch a movie after.  I promise.  Any movie you want.”

Steve watched as the Soldier swallowed hard and nodded quickly.

“They made me suck them all off while Rumlow called me a fag and a fairy and so many horrible names.  They...They finished and made me swallow.  They weren’t gentle.  Rumlow was the last to touch me.  He was the worst.  Once everyone else had finished, he ordered me to get on all fours.”

Steve could feel his own stomach churn at the Soldier’s story.  He squeezed his hand reassuringly and forced a weak smile as he pressed another kiss against his knuckles.  

“He forced himself on me.  Of all the beatings and wipes I’d endured, this was worse.  Not only was it painful, it was humiliating.  He took the last ounce of humanity I had left and laughed in my face.  He made it into a joke.  I was powerless.  I let it happen, and to make it worse, I came.  I-I couldn’t help it.  He was touching me as he fucked me.  It felt like I deserved the humiliation.”  

Bucky quickly rushed to the toilet to retch into it, his whole body shaking and tense.  Steve was right by his side, and for a brief moment, he caught a glimpse of his Bucky when he lifted his head up.

“Buck…”  Steve swallowed down his tears, but he couldn’t help but smile sadly at his lover.  When the brunet finished, he collapsed against Steve, shivering and sniffling in fear.  This was Bucky.  Whatever composure the Soldier had left in him was gone, and Bucky felt the repercussions.  He sobbed into Steve’s neck, and the blond held him close to his chest.

“I love you.  The one thing that bastard didn’t take from you, was me.  You will always have me, Buck.”  Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, letting him cry into his neck, soaking his skin.

“I will  _ never _ touch you the way any of those men touched you.  I will never put you in the same position that Rumlow put you in.  I will never take anything from you unless you ask me to, Bucky.   You are in control, here.  Not me.”  Steve whispered into Bucky’s messy brown locks.  Bucky just nodded and tried to collect himself, and the blond let him cry.

“Y-you really want me after what they did to me?”  Bucky sniffled, his voice wavering.

“I want you regardless of what happened.  I am your boyfriend.  I love you and your past, and I will listen and help you whenever I can.  Now, do you wanna get washed up before we settle in for a movie?”

Bucky nodded weakly as he looked up at Steve.  The scarring along Steve’s jaw had diminished greatly down to a small sliver of a cut.  The Brunet leaned up to kiss the small cut gently before he stood up to wash the cold sweat off his face and brush his teeth.  He only paused to check out his boyfriend as he walked out of the bathroom, biting down on his lip nervously before his attention went back to cleaning himself up.

Steve kicked off his shoes as he settled on the bed, lying back comfortably against the headboard as he waited for Bucky to finish in the bathroom.  He heard the toilet flush and the faucet turn on, but barely focused on that.  Instead, he found himself flipping through channels on the large television screen mounted on the wall.  

Bucky returned to his side moments later, but not before discarding his t-shirt and pants as he climbed into bed.  He pressed himself up against the broad expanse of Steve’s body like he was a security blanket, and the blond quickly turned his head to press a kiss to Bucky’s forehead as he wrapped his arms around him.

“So, what movie do you have in mind?  Nat gave me another list of movies to watch when we have the chance.”  Steve stated as he dug through the pocket of his pants for the little slip of paper.  Once it was in his hand, Bucky snatched it from his fingertips and quickly skimmed over the movie titles.

“The Princess Bride sounds pretty good.”  Bucky mumbled as he turned his head slightly to kiss Steve’s bare shoulder.  

“Friday, do you have a copy of “The Princess Bride” in your database?”  Steve asked the room.

_ “I do, Captain Rogers.  Would you like me to play that for you?”  _  A woman with a slight accent responded.  The voice seemed to perplex Bucky.

“Friday?”

_ “Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” _

“Oh, um...Sorry, Friday, I wasn’t talking to you.  I just wasn’t aware that Stark had a back-up AI called Friday.”

“Oh, uh, yeah...Jarvis got uploaded into a um...It’s a bit hard to describe.  I’ll go into detail tomorrow.  Go ahead and play the movie, Friday.”  Steve smiled as Bucky settled back against him, a hand resting on his bare abdomen comfortably.  The two fell into a comfortable silence as the movie flashed onto the television screen.  

They spent the rest of the night attached at the hip, curled into each other and keeping each other close.  Bucky was the first to drift off to sleep sometime towards the end of the movie.  His features were uneasy and restless.  Steve stayed awake just a bit longer to make sure his boyfriend would be okay, only to pull Bucky close and use his chest as a pillow as he drifted off to sleep.

***

Steve groaned as he stirred awake the next morning, sunlight peeking through the closed curtains and hitting his face.  He yawned, eyes fluttering open to see Bucky sitting on top of him, legs straddling his hips.  He smiled sleepily as Bucky mumbled out an ‘I love you’.  Their mornings always started out with those three words and Steve never got tired of it.

“I love you too, Buck.”  Steve whispered as he reached up to pull his boyfriend down against his body, pressing a kiss against the brunets’ lips.  He groaned softly into the kiss as he felt Bucky’s fingers slowly moving down his chest, mapping out every single line and muscle across his torso.  The moment Buckys’ lips parted and started licking into his mouth, the air in the room seemed to shift.  There was a  _ need _ in that kiss, an unquenchable lust and Steve struggled for a brief moment to keep up with that feeling.  

“Buck…”  Steve whispered breathlessly the moment he had the chance, hands resting on his boyfriend’s hips.  Bucky hadn’t yet put his full weight onto him, but the moment the brunet cautiously pressed his hips down against Steve’s, they were both seeing stars.

“Wanna know what you feel like, Stevie.  Wanna know every inch of your body.”  There was a curiosity in Bucky’s features this time around, but Steve could still see a small amount of fear hiding in those curious eyes.  By that time, Bucky’s hand was cautiously dancing across the defined adonis lines along his hips.

“Are you sure, Buck?  We can wait until you’re comfortable.”  Steve slowly reached down to grab onto that warm hand slowly making its way even lower, dipping underneath the hemline of the jeans he had slept in.  Bucky mulled over the question for a few silent moments, only to bite down on his lip and press his underwear-clad hips down against Steve’s a bit more aggressively.

“Jesus,  _ Buck. _ ”  Steve hissed the moment he felt Bucky’s arousal pressing against the growing tent in his own jeans.  He already had a bit of morning wood to begin with and usually he could just ignore it, but not today.  “Pants off, then?”

Bucky was already getting to work the moment Steve let go of his hand, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans like it was his  _ job,  _ before yanking them down to his knees.  Steve suddenly felt vulnerable as he watched Buckys’ eyes slowly take him in, scanning over the outline of his hardon underneath his briefs as he licked his lips.

“Fuck, Stevie…”  Bucky’s voice came out as a purr and his right hand slowly moved over his bulge, palm pressing against his thick shaft as his hand moved upwards.  “I knew you were gifted in  _ that  _ department but I don’t ever recall you being this big.”

Steve wasn’t exactly sure what to do with his hands.  They were currently resting on Buckys’ thighs, just testing his comfort zone before they really started to get into it.  His first time would be with Bucky, and he knew he wouldn’t regret any of his actions in this situation, but the thought was still overwhelming.  They would both have to take it slow.

“Well, um...Blame the serum, Buck.”  Steve’s breath caught in his throat, hips lifting off the bed to meet Bucky’s the moment the brunet’s fingers teased the sensitive, leaking tip.  His own hands moved up to the elastic of Buckys’ briefs, tugging at them slowly.  The brunet carefully lifted himself off Steve’s hips, his left arm whirring into place to help Steve pull off his underwear.

“Touch me, babydoll,” Bucky whispered.  There was a hint of nervousness in Bucky’s voice the moment he settled back down on Steve’s lap, like he was afraid he wouldn’t be okay with the blond’s touch.  “I need to know if I can actually do this.”

“Don’t call me babydoll, Buck.”  Steve whispered as he leaned up to trail kisses along his boyfriend’s jaw line.  The remark was met with a smirk.

“You sure,  _ babydoll _ ?”  The word rolled off Bucky’s tongue like sweet honey the second time around, voice just a soft purr against the shell of Steve’s ear.  His cock gave an involuntary twitch in the brunet’s hand and Steve whined.  “Now touch me, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes darted to Bucky’s cock, thick and hard, and he could feel his heart rate pick up.  He’d never wanted someone more in his life than he wanted Bucky.  His fingers danced back up his lovers’ thighs, only looking up to see if the brunet was okay.

“If anything I do makes you uncomfortable, tell me, okay?”  Bucky nodded quickly, leaning down to capture Steves’ lips in a heated kiss.  His mouth fell open, tongue licking languidly into the blond’s mouth as Steve slowly wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s hard shaft.  Steves’ briefs quickly followed after that, discarded as quickly as his pants were.  He could feel Bucky’s hips rolling against his hand as his fingers started moving up and down the shaft, thumb circling the tip with every upstroke, only to twist his wrist on every downstroke.  

“Stevie...Fuck,  _ babydoll… _ ”  Bucky purred.  “S-slow down, please.  Fuck, you’re a pro, Stevie.  Gonna make me come like that, n’ we’ve barely gotten started.”  Bucky trailed heated kisses down Steve’s neck, only for a groan to be caught in his throat the moment he felt warm fingers wrapping around his own shaft.  The touch was more cautious and curious, fingers dragging over every little vein and ridge along his shaft like they were memorizing the features of his cock.  Steve’s hand squeezed around Bucky’s cock gently as he arched his own hips up into Bucky’s warm hand.

“Buck... _ please _ \-- uh!  I want more.”  Steve moaned weakly, completely at Bucky’s mercy the moment his right hand picked up the pace.  His whole body was writhing and arching into every little touch.  Bucky drew another moan out of his parted lips as his thumb dragged across his leaking slit, only to smear the small amount of precum across his hip.

“I am gonna make such a mess of you, babydoll.”  Bucky’s voice darkened, watching Steve’s expression as the word ‘babydoll’ escaped his lips.  His pupils were already blown, the blue of his irises barely visible and Bucky smirked, giving one good twist to his wrist as his hand moved up Steve’s cock, only to let go moments later.  He leaned down to kiss Steve’s lips, just needing that bit of comfort and security that this was  _ Steve _ , that no one else was around to humiliate him.  Steve would keep him safe.  

Steve returned every kiss, his hand leaving Bucky’s cock just so he could explore every inch of his boyfriend’s body like he wanted to from the beginning.  He felt his boyfriend shift on the bed and his legs spreading apart, only to whine when Bucky pulled away, leaning across his broad chest to dig through the nightstand.  This gave Steve a chance to flick his tongue across Bucky’s nipple, his hand once again reaching between the brunet’s legs to grope and massage his balls.  

“Jesus  _ Christ,  _ Steve.  You sure you haven’t done this before?  Seems like you know what you’re doing.”  Bucky panted as his attention returned to Steve, quickly coating his fingers in lube before tossing the bottle aside.  

“You’ll be my first, Buck.”   _ My one and only _ .  Steve wouldn’t have it any other way, and he quickly reached up, his hand resting on the back of his boyfriend’s neck to pull him back down into a kiss.  

“You ready, Stevie?  ‘S gonna hurt.”  Bucky mumbled against Steve’s lips.  He could already feel slick fingers dragging down his abdomen, teasing his skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.  

“Yeah.  ‘m ready, Buck.  Just take it slow.”  Steve’s voice shook, feeling a bit uneasy as he looked up at Bucky, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.  The moment their lips met, the blond felt cold, slick fingers between his legs, dragging across his perineum before moving lower.  Steve nipped at Bucky’s lower lip gently, only to whine as he felt a long, slick finger teasing at his tight entrance, circling slowly before the tip of his finger pressed into him.  Steve clenched his jaw and grit his teeth, his muscles clenching around the digit as Bucky dared to push just a bit deeper.

“You okay, Steve?  I-I can stop, if you want.”  Steve quickly nodded his head, reaching down to grip on the wrist between his legs.

“‘S fine, Buck.  Keep goin’.”  Steve’s other hand reached up to rest on the back of Bucky’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss as he slowly guided that hand, forcing Bucky’s finger just a bit deeper.  He was down to the first knuckle and the burn and the slight  _ stretch _ was a bit uncomfortable, but not quite painful yet, so he encouraged Bucky to keep going.

“More,”  Steve whispered against Bucky’s lips, licking into his mouth slowly as he spread his legs a bit wider, practically presenting himself to his lover.  He watched the brunet closely as he pulled away, feeling the slick finger slide in to the very last knuckle.  Steve could handle this.  One finger wasn’t  _ terrible _ , though it wasn’t exactly pleasant either, but then that finger started to  _ move _ .  That long, slick digit slowly dragged out of his tight little hole before sliding back in, causing him to squirm and wince from the stretch.  It took a few more minutes for Steve to finally start to relax.  The more Bucky fucked him with just one finger, the more receptive his body became.  

“Another.”  Steve whimpered just as Bucky curled his finger, his knuckle grazing against a spot deep inside him that made his body jolt and arch up against his lover.  It was just a tease, but it felt  _ so damn good. _  All he wanted was for Bucky to  _ keep doing that _ , and he did, just once more.  The feeling caused his mouth to fall open as he choked out a low moan, only for it to turn into a small hiss as Bucky inserted another finger into him.  

“Fuck, Stevie...you have no idea how good you feel.”  Bucky groaned, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck.  He took it slow, trying his best to keep an eye on his boyfriend as he pressed that second finger into him just a little bit deeper.  It took a few more minutes for Steve to relax completely and loosen up just a bit around him so he could add a third, but not before he curled his fingers and let his knuckles brush up against his prostate.  

“Uhn!  Do that again, Buck.”  Steve moaned, and the sounds that escaped his lips just drove Bucky wild with lust.  He’d never wanted someone so bad in his life, but he did what Steve asked, curling his fingers and pressing right into that spot.  Just as he did, Steve crushed his lips against Bucky’s in a sloppy kiss, both hands holding his head so he could take control.  

Steve barely reacted when Bucky added a third finger; he just kept his lips latched to Bucky’s, licking into his mouth like he was getting paid for it.  Nails dragged down the brunet’s back, leaving faint red lines in their wake that healed up in seconds.  The sharp groan that escaped his boyfriends’ lips as he dug his nails into his skin was like a drug to him.  Steve wanted to hear more.  

Bucky was fucking three fingers into him now, dragging out his movements like he was savoring the way the blond’s muscles molded around his digits.  He’d spread his fingers every few seconds, which earned him a few choked off moans.  Steve tangled his fingers in the brunet’s hair, tugging gently as he leaned up to kiss his boyfriend again, and it was like he could never get enough of those lips.

“Want you, Buck.  Please.”  Steve whispered breathlessly against his lips, his untouched cock hard, red and leaking against his lower abdomen.  The blond reached down to stroke his own cock, body arching and squirming against his own touch as Bucky slowly pulled his fingers out of his tight, little hole.

“Condom?”  Bucky asked, nipping at Steve’s ear as he pressed his own hips down against Steve’s, their cocks pressing together.

“Don’t need one, Buck.  I can’t catch anything.”  Steve whispered back, pressing a slow, searing kiss to his boyfriends’ lips, tongue licking into his mouth as Bucky reached for the bottle of slick.

“‘S gonna hurt, Stevie.  You sure you wanna do this?”  Bucky was already coating his cock in slick, pressing himself up against the blond’s body just to feel smooth, warm skin against his own.

“Yeah, Buck.  I trust you.”  Steve nipped at the brunet’s lower lip, only to gasp and pull away the moment he felt the slick head of Bucky’s cock pressing against his ring.

“Exhale for me, babydoll, and just relax.”  Bucky whispered into Steve’s ear, only to slowly start pressing his cock past the tight barrier of muscle the moment his boyfriend exhaled.  The brunets’ mouth fell open the moment he felt those tight walls taking him in and clenching around the head of his cock, fingers already digging into the sheets as his mind spun at just how  _ tight _ Steve felt.  

“You doing okay, baby?”  Bucky managed to grunt, making sure Steve was okay to continue before he pressed deeper.

“Y-yeah, Buck.  ‘m fine.”  Steve hissed through gritted teeth as he dug his nails into Buckys’ shoulders.  “Just go slow.”

The brunet nodded, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses up and down Steve’s neck, only to capture his lips in a searing kiss the moment he started pressing forward.  He could feel the blond’s face knit into a scowl of pain and Bucky almost wanted to pull away to make sure he was okay, but the way Steves’ nails dragged down his back, only to rest the palms of his hands on the curve of his ass to draw him closer told him that everything was fine.  Steve was just so goddamn warm and tight and his walls felt like smooth silk around his throbbing cock that Bucky’s knees nearly gave out from just how  _ perfect _ Steve felt.

It took a few more slow, agonizing minutes for Bucky to seat himself fully into Steve’s tight hole.  He could tell his boyfriend was struggling to relax, but with every exhale, his body became more compliant.  Bucky peppered soft, chaste kisses up Steve’s neck until he reached his lips, smiling softly as his boyfriend returned the kiss.

“Just breathe for me, babydoll, you’re doing great.  You have no idea how amazing you feel.  Fuck, never felt anything so tight in my life.  ‘S like your body is sucking the life out of me through my cock.”  Bucky panted.  Steve’s cock twitched against the brunet’s stomach at the praise.  He didn’t move quite yet; he knew Steve wasn’t ready.  He kissed along the blond’s jaw-line, feeling his lover’s body trembling beneath his, and only when Steve started grinding his hips back against his own did he start thrusting.  He drew his hips back slowly, and the  _ whine _ that escaped the blond’s parted lips was music to his ears.  The whine was cut off with a sharp gasp the moment Bucky thrust back in, still so agonizingly slow.

The feeling of Bucky’s cock inside of him,  _ buried to the hilt _ , hurt like hell, but it was Bucky.  That’s all that mattered, and just that thought alone made Steve want  _ more. _  He didn’t care about the pain.  Hell, he felt worse pain, so he knew he could handle this.  So he slowly started moving his hips, testing the waters a bit.  That’s when things really started to heat up.  Just the way Bucky’s cock twitched inside of him caused him to choke out a whine as he withdrew his hips, only to gasp in shock as he was filled back up.

Steve dragged his nails down Bucky’s back, and the brunet shut his eyes and dropped his jaw, licking a long, wet stripe up his neck before he captured his lips in a sloppy, passionate kiss.  His thrusts were drawn out, long and agonizingly delicious, but at just the right pace for Steve to cry out for more, and he did just that.

“W-want more, Buck.  F-fast _ er! _ ”  The last syllable was accentuated by a particularly hard thrust, causing Steve’s body to tremble underneath his lover.  There was just the  _ right _ amount of pain to keep Steve on edge, teetering between wanting  _ more _ , and not sure if he was ready for it, but this was Bucky.  He looked so undeniably vulnerable in this moment and Steve found that beautiful.  All he could do was stare up at his lover, pupils blown and lips parted as the brunets’ thrusts became more shallow, hips moving in a quick, sharp staccato that made Steve’s entire world spin on its axis.  

The blond raked his nails back up Bucky’s back, only to tangle his fingers in his hair and pull just hard enough for his lover to crane his neck.  This only caused the brunet to gasp sharply as he hooked Steve’s legs over his elbows, lifting him off the bed just enough to drill his cock right into his prostate.  

“ _ There!   _ O-oh fuck yeah! _ ” _  Steve’s entire body shook to the very core as his boyfriend’s cock rammed into that sensitive spot deep inside of him with every single thrust.  His vision clouded and he could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone voice them in anything other than a few breathy moans.  Every time Bucky rammed his cock back into that spot, he was seeing stars.  

Bucky, on the other hand, was so caught up in how fucking  _ perfect _ Steve looked in this very moment, that he wasn’t paying attention to just how  _ tight _ the blonds’ inner walls were clenching around him.  Steve was close.  

“Talk to me, Stevie.  You doin’ okay?”  Bucky panted, drawing out his thrusts just so he could catch his breath.  He didn’t really need to slow down, but when the squeeze got to be too  _ tight _ , Bucky knew Steve was edging.  He was gripping onto the sheets underneath him like his life depended on it.  His broad chest was coated in a thin sheen of sweat and his abdomen was so taut that he swore his eight-pack turned into a ten-pack in a matter of minutes.  

“ _ Uhnnn... _ Buck.  You feel so good.  Keep goin’, please, baby.  Love the way you feel.  ‘M so close.”  Steve panted out between moans as precum drooled out of his cock and smeared across his abdomen.

Bucky leaned over to kiss his boyfriend, tongue licking sloppily into Steve’s open mouth as he thrust into him roughly; the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the room.  Each sharp impact left Steve breathless every time he pulled away, only to be drawn back in for another kiss.  Fingers dragged across his broad chest, sifting through the small amount of chest hair as Steve pulled away to look up at him.  

Then it hit the brunet; the fear, the anger of what Rumlow had done to him.  The closer he got to his release, the more shame he felt for letting his former handler strip him of his humanity like that.  Bucky kept thrusting, unable to stop himself.  It felt  _ too damn good _ to stop himself despite how  _ afraid _ and angry he was feeling.  He wanted to come; he could feel himself right on the edge of the abyss, ready to just let himself go, but the fear held him back, the fear that Steve would judge him for feeling  _ this much pleasure  _ and getting off on it.

“S-Steve…”  Bucky panted out, raking his nails across the blonds’ skin.  He swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears.

“It’s just us, Buck.  ‘S just us two here, okay?  I’ve got you,” Steve whispered, pulling the brunet into a slow, languid kiss moments later.  

“I-I wanna come,” Bucky started.  His throat felt tight as he spoke.  “S-so close.   _ Auh…. _ F-fuck, please…”

“C’mon, look at me.  ‘M right there with you, baby.  Come for me, Buck.”  Steve looked up at him, his own crystal blue eyes brimming with tears.  Bucky wasn’t sure if it was from the sheer pleasure of the moment or he knew what was going through his mind.  For a few brief moments, just staring into those eyes took his pain away, and all he could feel was Steve; all he knew was Steve.

“Buck…”  Steve gasped before crushing his lips to Bucky’s in a bruising kiss, tears rolling out of the outer corners of his eyes, only to moan into Bucky’s mouth as his muscles tensed and his cock throbbed against his abdomen before finally painting his stomach and chest in long, thick ropes of cum.  

“S-Steve…”  Bucky whispered as he pulled away, his lips hovering just centimeters away.  His brows were knit together, his mouth falling open into a perfect ‘O’, and the way Bucky looked in this moment, on the very edge of his orgasm, stunned Steve.  Bucky thrust hips hips just a few more times, those smooth inner walls clenching so unbearably tight that the brunet couldn’t hold back a small moan of pleasure before he finally let go, coating Steves’ inner walls and filling him right up, pumping thick, hot streams of cum into his trembling body.

For a brief moment, all Bucky could feel was pure bliss; he had forgotten what had happened to him.  He had, for a very brief moment, let Steve see this vulnerable side of him that he had once given to countless women in their shitty little apartment in Brooklyn, only to have that same vulnerability taken away from him by someone who had tortured him.  Steve was giving that vulnerability back to him.

“You’re so beautiful when you come, Buck,”  Steve mumbled contently, interrupting that small moment of sheer bliss.  Those words, and the way the blond was looking at him, made Bucky swallow whatever fear he had left, because he didn’t think he’d seen his boyfriend happier than in that moment.  It was like Bucky hung the goddamn moon for Steve.

“Not entirely sure how to respond to that, Stevie.”  Bucky chuckled as he bit down on his lower lip, slowly pulling his now-flaccid cock out of Steve’s cum-filled hole.  

“Well a ‘thank you’ would have been acceptable.”  Steve chuckled before he leaned up to steal a kiss, groaning softly in discomfort the second Bucky pulled out.

“A ‘ _ thank you’ _ ?  Really, Steve?  I’ve had sex with  _ countless  _ women and you’re the first to tell me that, Steve.  Frankly, I’m quite stumped as to why you think I’m  _ beautiful _ .”  Bucky mumbled as he pecked Steve’s lips, slowly sliding off the bed so he could grab a towel and clean them both up.

“Maybe because I’ve always found you beautiful.  You were my artistic muse when we were growin’ up, ya know.”  Steve said as he lazily turned to lay on his side, groaning as he eyed his boyfriend as he walked back into the room with a towel in hand.

“Kinda figured I was.  Always caught you glancing at me out of the corner of my eye.  Knew you were lying when you said you were drawing Gretta in her flower shop across the street.  The only time you could see Gretta in her flower shop was through the kitchen window, n’ you always sketched in the main room.”  Bucky smirked as he slipped back into bed, carefully taking his time to clean up the cum decorating Steve’s chest and stomach before he forced him to lay back, legs spread.

“What’re you doin, Buck?  Goin’ for round two?”  Steve quirked a brow, only to hiss the moment Bucky dabbed the towel up his inner thighs, cleaning up whatever was already leaking out of him.  

“I  _ could _ , and it does sound tempting, but I think it being your first time, one round is enough for now.”  Bucky smiled and leaned down to steal another kiss, only to settle back into bed a few moments later.  He pulled Steve into his arms, dragging his metal fingers down every little notch and groove along his boyfriend’s spine.

“I love you, Bucky.  ‘M glad my first time was with you.”  Steve mumbled, turning his head to kiss the brunet’s collarbone.

“I love you too, Steve.”  Bucky smiled as he hugged Steve to his chest, watching as his boyfriend slowly drifted back off to sleep.  The brunet followed shortly after, his eyelids growing heavy before they finally fluttered closed, his head slumped against Steve’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, guys! I've been going through a lot of life changes and had to put this on the backburner for a bit. I'm still here! I'm still working on it! I'm so sorry! I want to thank everyone that's been so patient with me on waiting for this update. This has been my longest chapter yet and I think that's partially why it has been taking so long. Hopefully I'll get my groove back soon and my updates will come more frequently.
> 
> Also I'm mildly proud of the fact that I kind of guessed a few things about Bucky's past in this fic and it turned out to be true or somewhat similar in "Captain America: Civil War". Rumlow's death in Civil War and this fic were somewhat similar in the sense that he did commit suicide. Bucky killed Stark's parents and the flashback of Howard saying Bucky's name was eerily similar. Bucky was held in Siberia in both situations. Who else saw Civil War?


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